A Day in the Life of David King
by Cannibal Jello
Summary: My attempt at humor...Follow David as he struggles through a few plumbing disasters
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Day in the Life of David.  
  
Author: Cannibaljello@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: G, I guess.  
  
Notes: Lately, I've been eager to write again (I mean, a good story. Not trash). I can't seem to get into the serious mode, since I've been leeched of the real story writing thrill (thank you, english studies :O! ) . I decided to scribble down a few pointless, goofy skits to get warmed up. The beginning scene decided to worm its way into my mind at 1 am in the morning, and from that point, I decided to have my fun. Yeah, I know its not an action-packed, detailed survival horror fic with drama, violence, and some insane twists, but I'll get to that in another fic....  
  
So far, I've written 3 pieces so far...Tell me if you like them, and I'll be sure to post ASAP.  
  
Damn't, I want to write something great like everyone else! Looks like I struck out again. *snaps pencil and tosses it into trash *  
  
(Also, I apologize if the formatting is crap – I've always hated fanfiction.net's system)  
  
---  
  
It was the beginning of bad day.  
  
"Ma'am," David rumbled in his rich voice. It was nine in the morning, and already David had wondered why he had chosen his profession – for the eigth time that hour. He stood in surroundings which were far too familiar to him, from the medicine cabinetes mounted on the floral pattern walls, to the hot and cold taps mounted on the sink. It was the porcoline bowl which he was equipped to do battle with, holding a rubber plunger in a gloved hand and a small box in the other. It was the cardboard packaging both he – and his client – eyed with embarassed interest. "Do you see the word 'flushable' anywhere on this box?"  
  
He addressed the middle-aged woman standing, arms crossed self-consciously around her hot-pink clad bossom. Nearly 5'4", Sheila Armstrong had fair hair which danced around her plump face in wild curls. Her painted-on makeup, which was as vibrant as her Walmart clothing, failed to conceil her burning red flush. Instead of speaking, she simply stepped forward and with a quick hand, snatched the box of Kotex Tampons from Davids grasp.  
  
"Can you fix it?" She asked, staring warely at David.  
  
"I can fix anything." He answered simply.  
  
"Then get to work, Hun. Would you like me to fix you up a little somethin' while you work?"  
  
David stared at the backed-up toilet, one hand on his forehead. "I'll pass."  
  
It took David nearly fifteen minutes to dislodge the troublesome clog. During that time David had unzipped the top portion of his working suit, shrugging it off to rest at his hips as the heat became nearly unbearable in the small apartment Wearing only a tight-fitting tanktop on his chest, the persperation beading on his face, neck, and arms cooled his skin. Black locks of damp hairs - too short to be pulled back - clung to his forehead which he continually brushed away with the back of his wrist. He was uncomfortable, frustrated, and cursing the toilet in every language he knew. Sheila, on the other hand, sat and watched his ordeal with dialated, longing eyes.  
  
"It must take a lot of muscle to be a plumber." Sheila said, watching David jerk the plunger up and down. With an inward shudder, David could only contemplate what was on the womans mind. He was sure it wasn't a plunger he was jerking in her dreams.  
  
"Nah," He said, and grunted as he pulled the plunger free with an audible pop, nearly toppling over from the action. Stabilizing himself, he threw aside the tool aside and removed his hands from his sweat-dampened gloves. He was more than eager to scrub his hands and rushed over to the sink to do so. Meanwhile, Sheila bent down to inspect his work.  
  
"You're right, you can fix anything." She giggled, glancing at the resting plumber. "Can I test it?"  
  
"Go ahead. Be sure to remove ..well, you know, before you flush it. We wouldn't want it clogging again." David said, speaking only for himself, he was sure. He didn't doubt that Sheila would mind a little more show for her money. Shuddering, he glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. "Would you happen to have a phone I could borrow? I need to call the workplace-"  
  
"You don't have to explain yourself, Hun! Go ahead, there's one in the kitchen. Take all the time you need." Of course, David didn't care to spend anymore time in her company than required. Thanking her, he hurried to the other room.  
  
"Racoon City Plumbing Co. Your clog is our business! What can we do for you?"  
  
"Hey Rick, it's David."  
  
"Oh, hey Dave. How's the job?"  
  
"..."  
  
Ricks laughter filtered through the earpiece of David's cellphone.  
  
"Shove it. That woman creeps me out." He kept his voice low.  
  
"Which one?" Rick asked, still chuckling.  
  
"The Lovesick Lady."  
  
"Oh, that one. Haha, poor Dave. Isn't her name Sheila, or something?"  
  
"You know her?"  
  
"We've met and had a few terrifying encounters."  
  
"Oh. Well, she's nice enough to let me use her phone."  
  
"She's nicer than that."  
  
David raised an eyebrow, watching his client lift her bossom higher than her push-up bra would allow, posing in her bathroom mirror. Shuddering, he averted his eyes. "I don't want to know."  
  
"What you should know, Dave, is to never accept a tip from her."  
  
"Why?" The ponytailed man asked.  
  
"You don't want to know," answered Rick. 


	2. Runins with Law Enforcement

Title: A Day in the Life of David King  
  
Author: Cannibaljello@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: G  
  
Notes: * = thoughts  
  
See end of the chapter, but read the story first!  
  
-  
  
It was going to be a busy day.  
  
Moments after David left the house of Sheila Armstrong, he received his second page of the day (the first greeting him this morning at 5am). It would be his second job for the day.  
  
Grumbling and unhooking the tool belt draped about his waist, he walked to his truck and tossed it in the back with the clank of metal tools crashing together. The troublesome pager vibrated within the back pocket of his work suit. He jumped at the sensation and retrieved both the pager and his keys. *I must find another place to put it*, he thought with a quirked lip.  
  
David drove a red Ford truck while he was on work shift, the Raccoon City Plumbing logo pasted on the side doors. It was the drivers side he unlocked and swung open, tossing his keys to the passenger seat as he read the message. He knew the address well enough to keep the map tucked in the glove compartment.  
  
"It couldn't get much worse than that," David told himself, staring at Sheila who waved at him from her bedroom window. He put the key into the ignition and started the vehicle. "If it does....I'll have to reconsider my job."  
  
Hand over hand, David turned the steering wheel and pulled from the curb, heading to the more suburban area of Raccoon. Windows down, warm autumn air swept through the truck, lightly ruffling David's long hair. It swept his loose locks away from his face, caressing and relaxing the tension he always felt on the working day. He loved times like this and could only hope that tomorrow would be just as nice. It was his day off, after all. He planned to indulge in it.  
  
For now, though, he had work to do. Accelerating, David pushed the speed limit, still keeping an eye out for children in the peaceful neighborhood. Despite the tragedies surrounding Raccoon City, kids continued to play happily in their yards. Parents must have become more lenient to let up their guard. After all, the S.T.A.R.S. has supposedly closed the case of the cannibal murders.  
  
"That's some pretty fucked up shit, there," David said to himself. Although he was known to speak sparsely around company, he had to relieve the urge to talk and did so alone by himself. Lately, he had spent a great amount of time thinking over the current fiasco surrounding the survivors of the Spencers Mansion incident - hell, the whole city was curious.  
  
"Zombies, secret experiments, cloak and dagger operations, oh my!" David chuckled, lacking amusement. He didn't know what he thought concerning the issue. It was odd, to say the least, and seemed impossible. Umbrella was the largest founder of the City - of pharmaceuticals nonetheless. *Aren't they trying to help people by supplying medication and such, instead of turning them into mutant zombies?*  
  
The entire case filled all the Raccoon papers – David knew, he had read them all. He didn't know why, and felt frustrated by his lack of understanding with himself. "Maybe I like seeing the RPD step in their own shit." It was true, he hadn't ever been fond of the government, nor had they been of him. "That's not important," David snapped at himself as he turned onto Maine Street, "so stop digging up your past."  
  
"Speaking of the police force..." David trailed off, cursing as behind him, red and blue lights flashed. He knocked his fists against the wheel and pulled to the side of the road, cutting the engine as the black and white vehicle stopped behind him.  
  
"I hate my life, I hate my life, I really do..." David murmured, silencing himself as an officer approached his window. Only a few years again, David would have been preparing himself for attack. He was surprised at how much his life had changed - for the better, it seemed. But now, he kept his hands on the wheel and looked up at the officer calmly. His rebellious, dark side attempted to make an appearance, which would only lead to further trouble.  
  
"Hello Officer..." David peeked at the badge pinned on the mans wide chest, the large RPD print on his uniform practically screaming attention with its large lettering. David bit back sarcasm, handing over his license and registration.  
  
"Good day, Mr. King," The officer said, studying the dark ponytailed man. David returned the favor, taking mental notes of the mans appearance. He was about 6 foot, with broad shoulders and from what David could see, a fit body. The man had brown hair which was tinted red from the suns light. It was medium length for a man - long enough to brush against the mans neck in the back. The front was a little shorter, with bangs brushing the mans brow line. The rest had a natural flip which was roguishly brushed back from his face.  
  
David guessed the man hadn't shaved recently, looking at the short stubble on the mans chin and around his naturally smirked mouth. *Pretty good lookin' for an officer*, David thought and mentally scowled. *There I go again, gettin confused. God I need to get laid...*To David, a desperate mind was a dangerous one. *I'm just surprised to see such a different policeman. This one ain't shaped like a pear, with a tire rounded stomach and a combed over, receding hairline.*  
  
"Mr. King, do you know why I pulled you over?" *Oh, it's the million dollar question..*David recognized. *I could answer truthfully, and avoid getting a huge ticket, or I could lie through my teeth and be hit with an even bigger fine*. David knew very well what he would have done two years ago, but that was then and this was now. The beeper rattled against its place on the dashboard, reminding him he had places to be and things to do.  
  
"I'm aware that I was speeding. In case you didn't see, I'm on the job" - *watch it Dave, we don't wanna find out how good our own boot tastes, now do we?* - "And I'm a bit late." David motioned towards the spasming piece of technology.  
  
Usually, - David knew from past experiences - most officers would be quick to take offense and would book charges to their greatest extent. Officer Ryman, on the other hand, smirked in amusement and cocked his head towards his own car.  
  
"In case you didn't notice, I'm on the job too. By having to pull you over, I have to take up my time and then I might be the one who's late." Ah, so Mr. Ryman had a sarcastic side as well.  
  
"Instead of making us both late, how about you pull out your little black book, give me a ticket, and send us both on our ways?"  
  
Officer Ryman seemed to consider it for a moment, before surprising David. "If I did that, I would have to call in your license plate for confirmation, check your ID, and report you...Look, I'll give you this one warning, so we don't take all day, okay?"  
  
*Someone must be in a good mood*. David thought, and grunted his approval. That was lucky, it had saved David's wallet, and probably his job. *Ah, crap, the job!*, his mind growled as Officer Ryman gave him a short wave and began walking back to his car. Starting his own, David pulled onto the road and - carefully watching his speed limit and checking for traffic - continued to his next clients home.  
  
-  
  
A/N: I don't like how this part came out. Too many "he did this" and "he did that"s....bleh. I don't have any idea where this fic is going either. *laughs * Oh well, I guess that's the fun (or whatever you would like to call it) part of writing.  
  
I could have added more to this chapter, but I decided not to. I want to know what the audience thinks! It made me happy to see that it was fun for some – Isope and Eri, I appreciate your comments! ^____^ - but I seriously hope that more people are reading this than just two...I'm not THAT bad, am I? O_O  
  
At least say hi. Better yet, tell me whats good about it, and/or if theres anything I can do better (because there is always room for improvement, and I have plenty of space to rent).  
  
-Cannibal Jello 


	3. 3

I'll take this time to post some feedback (no new chapter at the moment, sorry).  
  
Thank you so very much to my 6 reviewers. I was so hyped when I read the compliments on my character personalities. I'm a happy clam ^__^. I was concerned, and a little doubtful, that I had been making good impressions of David, and for that short bit, Kevin as well. Phew, its good to know these things.  
  
As for other issues...Personally, I wouldn't call this a real Outbreak fic like Jenell did. Which leads me to wonder whether I should make it to be one or not. So heres my question to the audience:  
  
Should I tie this in with the Biohazard Outbreak game storyline or keep rambling nonsense like I have been?  
  
Answering that one little bit could alter the story dramatically, if that's what you people want. I've been using this fic as a little writing practice, but there wont be a point in the story unless you guys want one.  
  
I have on chapter I'm currently working on, but its going slow due to laziness and a much needed three day weekend which seems unproductive. Hopefully, I'll have it posted by Sunday, perhaps Monday at the latest....The faster you respond and the faster I know what to do determinds the faster I post more of the story. 'kay?  
  
-Cannibal Jello 


	4. Finding Gustav

Title: A Day in the Life of David King  
  
Author: cannibaljello@yahoo.com  
  
Rating: G  
  
Notes: * = thoughts.  
  
See, I occomplished something this weekend! I stuck to my word, and delivered this chapter which is pretty long considering the other two. I don't know if its necessarily better. After all, I tried to make things look up for David. I was also in a hurry to finish the chapter. Still, that's not an excuse for bad writing ^__^;  
  
I have to agree with Jenell...I don't feel like putting the effort or time into writing this through the whole RE Outbreak period, since its currently being done and someone could just play the game if they really wanted the storyline...Still, it might make an appearance or two, depending on what my mind thinks up.  
  
To Icedragon: you hit the nail on the head. That was my plan from the very beginning. :D Good minds think alike, I guess. Oh yes, and David's day will be getting better – only because I ran out of bad things to happen to him. _; I must restart the brain.  
  
Keni: I like Kevin too ^__^  
  
I like taking advice from my readers, however few there are. I don't necessarily do what is asked of me, but I enjoy seeing differences in peoples opinions, likes, and dislikes. I wouldn't change my whole plans for the fic just because of demand, but I like to keep other options open just in case my brain fizzes out. At least then I'd have a second idea ready to go, and I'd know at least someone would continue to read.  
  
And I was confused by the way you used the word 'impressive' in your review. That's not exactly the word I would use, but hey, that's just me. ;)  
  
Peanutbuttersunshine: Danke sehr. Thank you. I appreciate what you said (no sarcasm included). That is the same style of review I would have given to myself. I appreciate the truthfullness, because I'm sick of lies.  
  
Eh, and sorry, I ain't plannin to die until September 5th. My condolences.  
  
-  
  
It was going to be a long day.  
  
David nearly tripped over his own foot after he pulled up to his clients house. He hadn't planned to get caught speeding – *Psh, speeding? I was only going ten, okay fifteen, over the speed limit!* – and being pulled over had cost him time and - he fretted- a job. David King hated irony; he had been speeding to save time and had been delayed instead.  
  
Cursing, David snatched up his tool belt and jogged to the wooden porch, slinging it about it waist as he did so. The worn leather felt soft yet withstanding beneath his callous hands - perhaps as much of a reliable tool as the metal wrenches and supplies cradled inside it. The buckle, on the other hand, was not.  
  
"Stupid, worthless piece of shit..." David growled, fingers in a fury of fumbling with the troublesome fastening. At the same time, he ambled up the stairs, hands still struggling with his belt. *I will not be made any more late because of some damn buckle!* David told himself and settled for holding the tool belt in his left hand. The other rose to press the doorbell set aside the screen door.  
  
At first, David was unsure he had even been heard, but a quick call of "Just a minute!" told him otherwise. Beyond the voice, and the sppt, sppt of a neighbors sprinkler, David could hear a sound that resembled crying. David knew the sound well. *Too well,* he repeated sourly and stepped away from the door, trying desperately to block out the sobs. to avert his attention, David stepped back into the yard and took a good look at the house. Two stories or so, it was painted a gentle blue hue. In the windows, creamy drapes were hung, framing a vase of flowers - lilies, David guessed - in one of the larger windows. *Of course, I'm no florist. Hell, I couldn't tell a tulip from a pansy...* Well, he had to admit that even he wasn't -that- bad; he knew beautiful things when he saw them. And he was sure he knew what beauty was when the front door finally opened.  
  
In the door frame sat a woman - about 25 or so, not that David would ask - and had to be one of the most pleasant surprises David could have had since the visit with Sheila Armstrong. She had thick, healthy chestnut hair which sat about her shoulders, neatly brushed to perfection. It cradled her fine chiseled face. *Very fine, indeed* The plumber smirked inwardly, and gave himself a mental kick. *Stop staring, you perverted idiot* Still...she was something to look at. David found himself admiring her again, looking at her pointed chin, bright blue eyes, and her nose.  
  
*Now -that- is a beautiful nose* David noted, wondering not for the first time if he had an obsession over noses. *Stop being weird* He told himself. "You called for a plumber?"  
  
"Yes I did. I take it you're the guy." The woman motioned towards the belt hanging from his hand. "...Unless you're just some man who happens to be wandering around carrying a tool belt wearing a plumbers uniform." She smiled gently.  
  
"Oh yes, that's me. Gotta be prepared...You never know when a tool belt could come in handy." Unfortunately, David would soon come to see how true -that- was. Suddenly, he felt awkward standing in the middle of her yard.  
  
"Would you like to come inside?" She asked.  
  
"Isn't that where the pipes are?"  
  
"Wow, it's good to see I've hired a genius" The lady laughed, twisting a finger through her hair. David wondered for a split second whether to take offense or not, and decided the latter. Stepping forward, he walked across the porch and, removing his glove of his right hand, extended it to the woman. *Workin' it smooth* He smiled inwardly. The woman took it with one long-fingered hand shook his. "The names Laura Janson."  
  
"David King, Plumber All Mighty at your service." *Down boy*  
  
"And that" – David jumped as he felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down to see a little girl. "-that is Marie. Say hello, Marie."  
  
Silence. She looked seven or so. Then again, David wouldn't know; he hadn't interacted with children much. He knew enough to see the resemblance between the two - Mother and Daughter, perhaps? The girl, Marie, had the same face as her mother, yet her eyes were different. Instead of blue, they were a chocolate brown, and – David was concerned to see – seemed puffed from tears.  
  
"Marie, be polite and introduce yourself." Laura chided gently, looking down at the girl who stood only 3' 5", give or take.  
  
"...Who're you?" Mariedemanded. Laura put one hand to her forehead and sighed.  
  
"Name's David." He said simply, holding out his hand to the little girl. She stared at him instead.  
  
"Why is your hair long?"  
  
"Marie!" Laura gasped, giving David an apologetic glance. Instead of catching it, he stared at the little girl.  
  
"I can't stand peppermint floss, so I make my own." He said simply, keeping a serious face. *Well, that's partially true...* He thought with an mental grin. Marie, on the other hand, gaped and looked squeamish. This time, he caught Laura's look of curiosity and amusement. *Score.*  
  
"People don't do that! Yuck!" Marie stuck her tongue out and pointed one short finger down her throat.  
  
"Come inside, you two. Enough playtime. We have a goldfish to save!" The woman smiled. Laura caught Marie's hand in her own, and Marie beamed at David. He stood there, confused.  
  
"-What?-"  
  
"You're going to save Gustav!" The young one hopped and grabbed his hand, tugging him to the house behind her mother. Once inside, he pulled Laura aside as Marie danced around the living room. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to ask her if she was insane. *You can't save a fish* –  
  
"-Are you going to kiss my mother?" Big brown eyes stared at the two adults.  
  
"Marie!" Her mother squeaked.  
  
"Kissing is gross. It's bad for adults! I heard that's how babies are made." David couldn't believe his ears, which – he noted with embarrassment – were smoldering with heat. Laura flushed as well, and batted the child away with her hands.  
  
"Marie, it's rude to interrupt people! I can't believe your manners today, young lady. Now go off and play, or I'll send you to your room."  
  
"But I don't want a little brother or sister!"  
  
"And you aren't getting one! Now shoo! Go watch TV or something." Flustered, Laura glared at her child as the little one bounded, hair in a curly mess, out of the room. David's eyes followed until the girl disappeared around the corner, where the sounds of cartoons began playing. The zips, bonks, and boings of Looney Toons and childish laughter could be heard from the living room, where David and Laura stood.  
  
"David – It's David, right?- I'm really sorry...I don't know where she hears that crap." She ran one hand through her hair self-consciously.  
  
"It's okay. Kids will be kids." He said shrugging. "Now, what is it I'm suppose to do? Save a fish? I'm a plumber, not a lifeguard."  
  
"Hey, it's not like the fish is drowning. Marie accidentally flushed her fish down the toilet when she was cleaning its tank."  
  
"What am I suppose to do? Stop the water?" David questioned, lifting his arms widely. The tool belt, still held in his grasp, clattered slightly as the gadgets inside knocked against one another.  
  
"Sure." Laura nodded.  
  
"I can't do that! Well, I could. But that fish is long gone. By now its probably starring in the movie Grinding Nemo at the water treatment plant." *That was a lame one, David.* He dropped his arms to his sides, then raised his empty hand to rub his aching head.  
  
"Well it was worth a try. Marie loved that fish...Look, I'm sorry I wasted your time." Laura said, looking glum. What hope she had dissipated. Groaning inwardly, David hated being sentimental, but couldn't help but feel down. He disliked seeing people hurt, either physically or emotionally. Hell, he wasn't heartless, despite his past. What made this worse was the little girl giggling a hallway from where he stood. *Fuck, I'm getting soft.*  
  
"...Look, I'll think of something. I'll get Marie her fish back, although I'm not quite sure how..." David worried that he would be regretting his words. At the moment, his ego overpowered logic and he doubted that was a good way to be.  
  
"Would you? Oh thank you!" Laura grinned, stepping to hug him. Despite how attracted he was to her, he was still awkward with human contact, and stepped back defensively.  
  
"I'll need you to take her out somewhere so I can work. Can you do that for me?" David asked.  
  
"Sure," she said to him, then turned to yell down the hallway. "Marie, turn the TV off, we're going to the park!"  
  
The little girl hurried into the room with a worried look on her face. "But what about Gustav?"  
  
"Gustav is fine." David said, mentally rolling his eyes at himself. Time to use that imagination he had stashed away after High School. *And I thought I'd never find another use for it* "Gustav and I are going to stay here and play a little game."  
  
Marie gave him a silly smile. "You're silly. Fish can't play games!"  
  
"Oh yes they can. I just happen to know that they love hide-n-seek. You know why fish hide in anemones - like Nemo? It's because they're hiding!" David was impressed with his madlibbing skills, however dumb they were.  
  
"Nemo was a clown fish. Gustav is a goldfish." Marie said matted of factly. *Smart kid* David thought, having underestimated her intelligence.  
  
"Well Goldfish like to play too...In fact, they're even better hiders. That's why you didn't know about it, because they hide very well." David glanced at Laura who was staring at David like he had gone insane. *Well, if I did, it wouldn't be the first time.* They could both see that Marie was buying his act.  
  
"Wow, you're smarter than you look Mr. Plumber." The girl giggled. *Touche, Marie* David thought. Laura looked as if she was going to scold Marie again, but David kept talking.  
  
"I need you two ladies to leave so I can hide. It's tricky to fool those fish, ya know? He has to think he's alone, and when he does, BAM, I'll snatch him up and throw him in his bowl."  
  
"Mom," Marie turned to her mother. "Why didn't you think of that?"  
  
"Must have slipped her mind." David, offered. Laura decided to play along.  
  
"How could I have possibly forgotten! I must be going senile. Anyway, come on Marie, let's get going so Mr. Plumber can catch Gustav, go home, and eat lunch. In fact, we could go to the park and have a little picnic ourselves. Does that sound good?"  
  
Brown hair bounced as Marie hopped to the door with the enthusiasm of the typical seven year old child, as well as with the impatience. "Come ON Mom, what's taking you so long?"  
  
"...Kids." Laura said simply, smiling at Dave. She disappeared to the kitchen and returned holding a paper bag. She handed him the house keys. "Just in case you get locked out, Mr. Plumber All Mighty." Then the two girls left.  
  
"...Shit." David said to himself. "How did I manage to get into this mess? Great goin', idiot." He walked slowly to the living room, taking a seat on the well-worn couch. It sunk beneath his weight, coaxing him to lay back and relax, but he was on the job. However nice it would be to take a break, he just couldn't. *Think about something besides rest. Look around, see what tools you have to work with.* So he did.  
  
He scanned over to coffee table sitting just two feet away, noticing the stack of news papers. On the front page, the headline struck out at him. It read: Mysterious Illness Strikes Raccoon. With one hand, David picked it up, smelling the sharp scent of newspaper ink. Beneath that, he noted another interesting article, Thirteen More Found Dead in Raccoon Forest. And another - Cannibalistic Activity Continues to Baffle RPD. David caught himself reading.  
  
"Now is not the time," he told himself, setting the stack down. Still another paper caught his attention. David brushed aside the newspapers with one gloved hand, picking up a small sheet of drawing paper. On it sat a scribbled drawing of a girl. It seemed that Marie was an aspiring artist. Even David, despite his hatred for the word, had to admit that the scribbles were...*Well, kinda cute*.  
  
He looked at the crayon doodles, a small smile forming on his lips. Hell, he could smile to himself, he was alone after all. There were three other drawings besides the first. One was of a cat, he guessed, because of the pointed triangular ears and long whiskers. The next was of a girl and her mother. Like most children drawings, everything was exaggerated and the daughter was as tall as the mother. It must have been a family portrait. *No father, either.* David noticed.  
  
The last drawing was bright orange and yellow. David strained his eyes and noticed with a raise of his brow that it was a goldfish. So that's what the illegible writing in the corner of the picture said - Gustav.  
  
David dug through the pile of papers to see if there were any more. That's when he saw it - the answer to his problem. "Aces." He whispered, smiling at it - an advertisement for a pet store.  
  
With the Gustav drawing in one hand and the paper in the other, David left the house and hurried to his truck parked against the sidewalk. Both items were throw into the passengers seat while David jumped in the others and revved the truck. "Why hadn't I thought of this sooner?" He asked himself, abiding the speed limit this time on the road. It wasn't far; he'd seen it before. Heck, it was a few shops down from his favorite sushi bar, which sounded tempting at the moment. *Watch it, you're getting sidetracked again.* David warned himself as he pulled into a parking space and cut the engine.  
  
A bell jingled as David stepped through the door, the strong, chemical smell of chlorine washing over him and attacking his senses. It only fueled him to leave the place sooner.  
  
"Hello there sir. What can I do for ya?" A teenage boy said from behind the register. Red headed and acne scarred, David was once reminded how thankful he was during his teenage years. Of course, he had other issues to worry about back then. Forcing the thought from his mind, David held up the cartoon doodle.  
  
"Do you have any of these?" He asked. He didn't realize how stupid he appeared until the cashier smiled at him sarcastically.  
  
"Did you draw that yourself?"  
  
"If it makes you happy, then yes I did. Do I have to repeat myself?"  
  
"That's a goldfish, right?"  
  
"...Yes. I'll take one." David snapped, tapping his foot. He didn't want to return to the girls house later than they did.  
  
"Okay, slow down, Sparky. Just a moment." The young man disappeared to the back and emerged holding a plastic bag with a golden fish circling in a confused frenzy. "That will be fifty cents."  
  
"...That's it?" David asked dumbly. He hadn't bought a fish before.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"You're kidding..." The darker man murmured , digging through his pockets with one hand, coming up with a one dollar bill and a crumpled up twenty.  
  
"Here. Go buy yourself a spring roll or something. They're really good." David laid down the money, ignoring the odd look he received before snatching up the fish and jogging out of the shop.  
  
David let out a sigh of relief when he opened the front door to Laura's house. The two girls weren't back yet, giving him plenty of time to return the drawing, find the fish bowl, and drop the new Gustav inside. It made a tiny plop sound as he fell into the water, and almost immediately after the front door opened. Voices filled the tiny house, unhearing as David stashed the wet plastic bag in one of his uniform pockets. Picking up the bowl and the happy fish swimming inside, David marched out to the living room.  
  
"Gustav!" Marie squealed, leaping for the bowl and nearly crashing into the man holding it. She then hugged David's leg, causing him to flush pink. "Thank you, thank you Mr. Plumber! You saved Gustav. You're the best!" She giggled and then turned her attention to her fish. All the while Laura stood there, staring at the fish and David curiously, as to say "How did you manage?"  
  
"Gustav, you are a bad bad fishy, scaring mommy like that! No more playing hide-n-seek! You are grounded for a week!" She chided the fish and once again reminded David of her mother. Apparently, he had been quickly forgotten by the little girl who was chasting the fish all the way down the hallway and into her room. Laura, on the other hand, had not forgotten the plumber.  
  
"How did you do that?" She asked in awe, watching him smirk.  
  
"Let's just say that Gustav feels like a new fish." He answered simply. Laura understood, with a thankful grin on her lips.  
  
"What could I ever do to repay you?"  
  
David clamped the thoughts in his mind before they could even start. *Bad, bad David* "It was nothin'. I did it free of charge."  
  
"I'm sure I've made you miss your lunch hour," Laura said apologetically.  
  
"Didn't even notice." He said. Yes, perhaps –he- hadn't noticed, but his stomach had. It betrayed him and growled loudly. Laura laughed.  
  
"Sure you didn't...I'll tell you what..." She began, pulling one of Marie's scribbles from the table and tore of a blank corner. Leaning over, her hand sought out a green crayon which she used to scratch something down on the paper. Then she handed it to David. "How about you call me and we can go out to lunch sometime - to make up for today. It will be my treat."  
  
David had a hard time controlling himself. He had to refrain from slapping one hand across his thigh or jumping to click his heels together. *Score! I've got a date!* Despite his giddiness inside, he acted calm and collected - like always - on the outside.  
  
"I'll see you up on that offer." He said coyly, picking his unused tool belt from its place on the table. Male pride filled each muscle with energy, which he used to strut *-not to obviously, I hope-* out the front door.  
  
"I'll be looking forward to it." Laura purred, running a hand through her brown locks. She watched as David climbed in his truck, before calling out. "David! What if Marie finds out...you know, about Gustav?"  
  
Buckling his seat belt, David rested his right arm on the unrolled car door windowsill. "She won't. Besides, what she doesn't know won't hurt her." He said, waving as he started the truck and began to turn from the sidewalk. Laura waved back before disappearing into the house.  
  
"Perhaps today is finally looking up." David said to himself, resting his head back on the seat.  
  
He couldn't have been more wrong.  
  
-  
  
TBC 


	5. 4

A pit stop for the authors notes:  
  
You guys rock! XD I love energetic reviews, they make me wanna write.  
  
To tell y'all the truth, I was planning on wrapping the fic up in this next chapter (I thought it was getting old and boring) but you guys made me see differently. The fic shall go on! I'm not sure for how long, but I can guarantee at least two more chapters...  
  
Now I have to work on brainstorming the next additions, which may take longer because the turn of events was unexpected. Before this, I had planned everything out (I was even planning a fic for a sequel which would take place after the game). That will be pushed to a back burner for now.  
  
As to what characters will make a (re)appearance...well, you'll just have to wait and find out.  
  
I have one question for future references (or future story blurbs from me).  
  
I just happen to be a fan of yaoi (male/male) ficlets. Are you guys for it or against it? You can say a simple for or against by emailing me at cannibaljello@yahoo.com , or you could review, or say nothing at all. It's your choice.  
  
Once again, I think you for your reviews! They mean a lot.  
  
-Cannibal Jello 


	6. Who wants to date a plumber?

Title: A Day in the Life of David King  
  
Author: cannibaljelloyahoo.com  
  
Rating: I think this chapter would qualify as PG-13  
  
Notes: Italics = thoughts.

Other crap: Phew! I've finally updated! I worked so hard to get it out ASAP, but with my upcoming finals and some lapses of Writers Block, it took a bit longer than I expected. But there's a bunch to read, about 8,136 words! I seriously didn't mean to make it this long, oy! I had considered chopping it in half, but I really couldn't decide where to end the first part and start another. I guess this time you'll have to settle with more than just bite-sized pieces!  
  
But man, if I keep writing at this rate, with my chapters growing exponentially, I'd be afraid to know how long this next chapter would be! shudders  
  
I need you guys to tell me if I'm still doing all right, because I think I've kinda drooped as the story continues on. It's not as entertaining to me, although I've re-read it over and over and over again, and if I do one more time I think I'll be sick. XP That's why there may be a few grammar typos and whatnot – I may be picky, but I plainly don't care at this point. ;  
  
Okay...what else...Oh, I've been juggling the idea of getting a beta-reader to lift the stress of mulling over the chapters countless times. Hey, if anyone is up to the offer, I can really put some thought into it.  
  
Also, I was just wondering, does anyone here like to role-play? Once upon a time I had great fun acting like an idiot and I've gotten the urge to give it a try again. Sadly, all my current friends either don't play RE Outbreak, or are too serious, and I need a Kevin (and maybe some others) to RP with (I'd be David, of course!) ;D I dunno, that's really stupid to ask, but hey, summer is coming soon and I'm desperate for something to do!  
  
Yes, speaking of summer, I get out of school June 9th. It would be safe to say that you probably won't read much from me until then. I might review some stories occasionally but definitely not as much as I wish, due to time constraint. But I will, without a doubt, read all your fabulous fics!  
  
DO review! I only got this far because of the wonderful things y'all have said. Otherwise I wouldn't be continuing with this fic.

And dude, I finally got use to ff.net's formatting system and they change it! Arghh. XO! So expect even more typos, with italics and whatnot.  
  
I'll shut up now. :)

---  
  
"Today might be my lucky day, Rick." David said into the gas station pay phone.  
  
"Sure looks like it, Dave. First you get a womans number, now you're getting off of work early! It's not fair!" whined Rick, whom he had been talking to for the past two minutes, whined." Next thing you know, the boss will be giving you a raise."  
  
David snorted. "I wish...So, that's it? No more customers?"  
  
"Nope, at least not at the moment. Want me to throw some cherry bombs in some toilets for ya? Then you could get back to work."  
  
"...Very funny."  
  
Rick's smile was evident through his happy voice. "Don't you ever laugh?"  
  
"Ha-ha...Happy now?"  
  
"I've met super models less sarcastic than you." Rick teased.  
  
"Yeah, but you aren't asking me out."  
  
Rich clicked his tongue once before replying. "Yeah...Those women don't know what they're missin'."  
  
David could have given a genuine laugh at that, but held himself back. "Right...okay, I'm off to lunch. I'll check back in while."  
  
It didn't take long for David to return to his truck and hurry home. It took even less time for him to swing the door open and hop from his vehicle, taking a deep breath as he did so. The air there was different from the developed areas of town, he noted. It was a bit more crisp and fresh.  
  
David resided in the less exciting, non-bustling part of Raccoon City. About 15 miles from downtown, the neighborhood lacked the luster and vibrance that came with neon lights, cramped roads, and crowds of busy people. Perhaps those were the reasons why David chose to live where he did - it gave him a place to be alone. Besides, the 45 minute commute to work wasn't that bad, and there was little gang activity. _Face it, what you care most about is being alone. So, what are you waiting for, an invitation to your own home? Go inside already.  
_  
He continued to carry his tool belt in one gloved hand, deciding that he'd fuss with the buckle later. _Mental note to self: threaten buckle with wrench. It worked for the water heater, didn't it?_ But now all that mattered was getting inside his home and out of the hot, sticky uniform. _Hell, if I wasn't sober, I'd streak to my apartment.  
_  
David didn't see the need for a house, so he rented a little apartment on the 5th floor of an old brick building. After all, he lived alone, and he was a man. _Yes, I'm a man and unlike a woman, I can live off the very basics. Give me a refrigerator, a shower, and a microwave, and I'll survive - walls optional.  
_  
The front door of the complex creaked as David stepped inside, escaping the hot summer sunlight and sinking into the dim interior of the building. It was cooler inside, despite the air being thick and damp within the small hallway. Still, it was better than being baked outside - at least David thought it was, until he noticed the make-shift sign taped on the elevator door.  
  
_Ahh, fuck,_ his mind growled, and he raised one hand to flip off the "Out of Order" written on the paper. _That's the 4th time this week, meaning the 8th time I'll have to run up and down those stairs. At the least. Ugh. Better get started..._  
  
When David reached his apartment door, room 507, he was even hotter and more miserable than before. _Well you didn't have to sprint up every damn step, genius_. he reminded himself, pulling out his ring of keys and flipping to the proper one. _Now all I need is for this to break and today will be priceless_. Luckily, the key remained strong and the knob turned smoothly.  
  
David closed the door at his back, alert eyes flickering across the living area of his apartment. Something was wrong, although he couldn't place a finger on it. But still, something was...  
  
A flash of movement caught his attention, and David dropped the tool belt to the floor, muscles tense and ready for action, ears straining to hear past the drone of the switched on television set. Narrowed eyes worked defensively, taking note of every part of the scene.  
  
The room was quite simple, as David kept everything in order. A small couch sat to his left - well worn and comfortable. In front of that was a small table with a stack of news papers, headlines similar to those he read at Laura's house sprawled across the front pages. One remote sat atop of them - a makeshift paperweight. The TV was pressed against the wall furthest from him, commercials flipping across the 32 inch flat screen, telling him to buy this shampoo and try that toothpaste. Despite the flashy colors and attractive actors, David's attention was focused on something else, something uncomfortable out of place - a potted plant strewn across the beige carpet.  
  
"Hell," he murmured, stepping over a random sock lying on the floor, then stumbled on a misplaced boot. He kicked both aside before setting his tool belt on the coffee table, kneeling to retrieve the limp, abused plant. "Who could have done this?" He wondered aloud, before a sudden dread and realization filled his every nerve. David wasn't alone - someone else was there.  
  
_A distraction,_ he told himself, _the plant was a distraction so that when I turned my back, my predator could sneak up and_ - Another flash of movement stole his eye and he managed to catch a glimpse of a white and black blur. The click of claws on linoleum was barely audible over the drone of the TV. _Where's it coming from? what direct_ -  
  
A solid, sudden weight knocked David to the floor as he shouted in surprise, raising his hands defensively as his attacker lunged over his sprawled form and pinned him with arms of steel. The element of surprise gave the enemy the upper hand, but David was strong. He fought back, forcing his palms against the heaving chest and - with a massive push - dislodged the attacker far enough away to allow David to make a move of his own.  
  
Rolling to one side, gasping for breath, David threw himself atop the writhing assailant. It yelped, limbs straining to escape, but David held on firm not only with his arms but his teeth, biting down on an ear. Sputtering, he gagged on a mouthful of stiff hair clinging to his saliva, before releasing his mouths hold and spitting.  
  
"You mutt, you thought you had me!" David laughed, wrestling his dog to the ground. One furry tail knocked onto the floor happily as David leaned over and began scratching its shaggy stomach.  
  
"Didja miss me?" David asked, smiling at the panting border collie. Domino was its name, because of the black and white patter of its silky coat. The obvious display of excitement gave David his answer. "Of course you did, you silly little fur ball."  
  
He crawled to his knees and stood as Domino jumped to his four feet and began circling his master, barking loudly. "Hey hey," he patted the dog. "Shush you mutt, we wouldn't want to get Daddy in trouble again. Remember last time?" David certainly did. "Daddy doesn't feel like getting bloody before his lunch break."  
  
Just weeks ago, David had been introduced to his new upstairs neighbor - quite informally - and things had ended with a bang. "And that's all because you couldn't keep your muzzle shut." he told the dog, who tilted its head to the side with an expression of "Who, me?"  
  
"Looks like knocking over the plant wasn't the only thing you did," David scowled, reaching for the torn mass that was formerly a sock. _Now I know where they're disappearing to!_ He was afraid to even look at the mangled boot, but did so any ways, placing his hand on it. "Gah! Domino!" David cried hopelessly, pulling back a hand covered in slime. "What did I tell you about slobbering in my shoes?!"  
  
Domino sat there, a look of humored triumph on his grinning face. Score: Domino - 2, David - 0. David knew he shouldn't have been so surprised - it had happened before. At least he hadn't been planning to wear the boot. David grimaced, struck by a vivid flashback. He had been running late for work, juggling his keys in one hand, a cup of milk in the other, and a bagel in his mouth. He remembered seeing the first available shoe and stomping his foot in it, only to douse it in sticky cold dog drool that sluiced up to his ankle. _Fuckin' nasty,_ he recalled. _Well...it's not as bad as that time I got drunk and puked in my own shoe...  
_  
The boot made a thumping sound as it was tossed in the nearest trash can, the sock following close behind. "That's the second pair this month. I swear, dog, if I have a nose fetish, then you have a foot fetish." David said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head and stared at his canine friend.  
  
It hadn't been David's choice to get a pet. In fact, his mother had done all the thinking for him. He remembered returning home one day to find his mother seated on his couch. Apparently she had made good use of the spare key he gave her after his move to Raccoon City. He had been 22 then, just released from the police station after being arrested another countless time.  
  
"David," she had said, as any gentle mother would. "We need to talk." She had always disapproved of him living alone "...like some sort of hermit," she put it. So, with a smile, she handed over a bouncing bundle of fur and fluff. "Maybe both of you could learn a thing or two in obedience school," his mother said with a tinge of humor, but kept a serious face. He had the dog ever since, raising it to be intelligent and...well...a little spoiled. _So I keep the TV on for the dog every day; so what? It's not like I cook him dinner. Okay, maybe once or twice, but his name aint tattooed on my arm or anything.  
_  
"Speaking of food..." David murmured to himself, wandering towards the kitchen, dog following close behind. "What's for lunch?" Of course, the dog didn't know. Then again, neither did David, who rummaged through his cabinets. "Looks like I need to go grocery shopping." He shook his head at the dog who drooped his usually perky ears. "Well, at least you can still eat, you lucky dog." Kibbles n' Bits was poured into the bowl, which the dog attacked with the enthusiasm as a starving piranha.  
  
David watched for a moment, before opening the fridge door. _There's a choice of beer, beer, and...wouldn't ya know it, more beer. Oh, and a shriveled orange._ He sighed. "I don't know what to choose!" _Well, you could always eat what the dogs eating. The package does say 'great and meaty taste', after all.  
_  
"Pfft." He'd rather eat the orange.  
  
David walked back to the living room, hands in pockets, and he decided that they were in dire need of being cleaned. Closing his fist, David pulled out the collection of junk that had accumulated after the past week. He dumped it out onto the table and began sorting through it. "I'm rich," he said lightly, counting 47 cents in two dimes, a quarter and two pennies. Along with that sat two lint balls, four gum wrappers, his wallet, a hair tie, and a little folded scrap of paper. He smoothed out the torn bit, frowning slightly before his memory triggered.  
  
Seconds later, he held the telephone receiver to his ear, cradling it between his shoulder and chin as he punched in the number, or at least tried to, until he realized he still wore his clumsy leather gloves. They were quickly discarded, dropped to the floor as he dialed. Domino, always curious, picked up the glove in his mouth and held it to David who shooed him away. So, deciding to give in to his mischievous side, Domino trotted off with his suede leather prize.  
  
"Hello?" crackled a sexy feminine voice over the ear piece.

"Have you flushed that new fish yet?"

"David," she laughed. "I was wondering when you'd call."

"I'm not that predictable, am I?"

"Eh, lets just say I know how men work. First they think about food, then women - particularly the one who gave you her phone number only a half hour ago."

"Damn."

"I know, I'm good. Let me guess, you don't have anything to eat at home and you want to go out for lunch?"

"Maybe."

"Okay, then maybe you want to pick me up in 45 minutes?"

"Maybe."

"And then maybe we can go out and get a drink and a bite to eat?"

"Maybe."

"Okay," she giggled. "I'll see you then. Bye bye, David."  
  
Moment after hanging up, David caught himself jogging down the hallway, slowing only to hop on one foot while he wrestled the boots from his feet, which Domino, returning from wherever, perked his ears at. "Don't even think about it!" David growled, flipping on the bathroom light. He disappeared into the room for a second, before hurrying back into the hallway to snatch his boots up. Domino pouted. David stuck his tongue out before returning to the bathroom.  
  
Taking off his work clothes was his favorite part of the day, David decided as he stepped out of the dirty fabric and dropped it to the floor. He breathed deeply, feeling five pounds lighter. Soon his plain white shirt joined the heap of clothes, as did the jeans when he managed to pull them from his long legs. Then he stood, studying himself in the mirror.  
  
"Not bad," he said to himself. He was definitely different from the average plumber. David had a long runners physique, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. He wasn't too skinny - despite weighing roughly 203 pounds, a great part of that was muscle. _Working out occasionally pays off,_ he thought. He pressed his hand to one of his pectoral muscles, feeling the hardness there, then trailing his hands down to his toned stomach. David wondered - with a shudder - if when he grew old he would turn out like the rest of them; obese, repulsive, with back hair and wrinkled elbows. _Never_, he promised himself. _I'll die before that happens_.  
  
Raising his hands behind his head, David fumbled at the catch of his necklace. It dropped down his chest, being caught in one hand before it was able to fall to the floor. David looked at the pendant, heavy in one strong hand. "Who needs a masculine pendant? I am masculine, isn't it obvious? Just look at me!" He flexed, his smirk reflecting back at him. His left eyebrow quirked, as did his lip as he pulled the tie from his hair. Black strands of silk fell around his neck, tickling his shoulders. "Well...despite the hair."  
  
David stepped up to the shower, pulling aside the curtains before his boxers dropped to the ground. Hands sought out the faucet, manipulating the knobs until the spray was strong and so hot steam rose from the spatter of water. David hissed at first, the droplets sizzling down his back and legs, but he endured the pain. He smoothed his slick daek hair back.  
  
After fifteen minutes of scrubbing and rinsing, David emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his hair tied back. Domino sat where David had left him, tail beating on the floor before he stood and followed David to his bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, David kept things simple. A queen sized bed sat in the corner - _because I always sleep alone_, he thought with a scowl - with a small dresser next to it. He had a tall bookshelf crammed with old novels which he constantly read, as well as a few notebooks which he kept sketches in. There was also a small table with a 20 gallon aquarium atop, home to four red-bellied piranhas swimming around in their own little ecosystem of plants and rock.  
  
"Howdy guys," he greeted them, stopping to peer into the tank before he padded over to the closet. Domino hopped on the bed and barked once, watching as David took out a pair of black pants and a brick red sleeveless shirt. After all the years of waking up at 5 AM to rush to work (and usually running late in the process), David became the master at dressing quickly, pulling on a fresh pair of boxers before slipping on the rest of his clothes.  
  
"How do I look?" David asked, turning to Domino. The dog gave a snort, then yawned with his ears folding back, paws stretching forward before he coiled like a stretched spring being released. Domino gave another grunt, gazing tiredly at David. "Lazy bastard," the plumber muttered, reaching for a new pair of boots which he inspected, staring questioningly at his canine friend. Satisfied that they were untouched, he buckled them on and headed for the door, snatching his leather jacket off the hook before leaving.  
  
It had only been 30 of the 45 minutes when David pulled up to Laura's house. She, who had already been waiting at the front door, hurried to the truck with a smile on her pretty face.  
  
"You look great," David said as a greeting, and meant it. Laura had shed herself of her motherly clothing, replacing them with a pair of snug red leather pants which hugged her every curve. Her shirt was made of a tightly knit white material that also - to David's delight - accented her form. It was short sleeved and had a low cut v-neck which framed a silver chain dangling between her breasts. On her feet she wore a sleek pair of black stilettos which exposed her silver painted toenails.  
  
"You're not too bad yourself, David. Much better than before."

"I hope so. I wouldn't call my work outfit fashionable." She laughed, gentle voice ringing in the air.

"Where to?" he asked. "I always let the lady pick."

"Hmm..how about we go to J's Bar? You ever been there?"

"A couple times."

"I heard they have great burgers during lunch."

"They serve lunch?"

"Only until 4. We'd better hurry."

"All righty."  
  
At 2:17, David was relieved to escape the bustling downtown traffic of Raccoon City, turning into the first available parking space three blocks from the bar. Both of them stepped from the truck, dodging the crowds of pedestrians. Laura, desperate to not get lost, hooked her arm around David's. Glossed lips turned up in a slinky smile as David jumped unexpectedly.  
  
"Don't worry, I won't bite." She said.

"Darn," David replied.  
  
Unlike the rest of the town, J's Bar wasn't packed with people shoulder to shoulder. Laura acted as if it was, pressing her body to David's. He flushed, wondering if it was really food she wanted, instead of him.  
  
"Hey David." Will, the full-time bartender waved, flashing a smile at the two.

"Howdy Will."

"'A few times'?" Laura laughed, tracing one long nail up and down David's arm.  
  
He gave a shaky smile. "I must tip well, is all."  
  
The bar looked stunningly different with a handful of simple wooden tables scattered about the wooden floor. It was against this floor that black heels clicked as Cindy Lennox trotted towards the couple, flashing her bright pearly smile. "Just two?" Cindy asked.  
  
"Just two," Laura confirmed, tugging David along behind her as Cindy lead them to a table. _Damn this woman's agressive,_ David thought, as he was pulled to a seat close besides Laura, wondering if he liked that in a woman._ I do...well, at least I think I do_.  
  
In moments they had ordered, Laura stating that she'd "just have the usual." David settled for a simple "I'll have what she's having," watching Cindy's blonde ponytail bounce away, heading towards the kitchenette afterwards. On her way, Cindy brushed past Will to give the chef their order. Will blushed, and David mentally chuckled. _I knew it -that ol' dogs pining for her,_ he thought, seeing the bartender collect himself before tending to a customer hunched over a drink at the stools.  
  
David looked at Laura who had opened a compact mirror to touch up on her lip gloss, before his eyes traveled elsewhere, searching for familiar faces. He wasn't surprised when he couldn't recognize anyone. After all, he hadn't ever visited the bar during daylight hours, and he didn't expect the usual night owls had either. But the broad back of one person did look slightly familiar...  
  
A warm body pressed against David's side, stealing his attention to Laura who smiled coyly. "So, tell me about yourself, David."  
  
_Guh, as if she cares_. He thought, absent-mindedly tightening his ponytail. "Well...I'm a plumber."  
  
She feigned surprise. "Really? Wow."  
  
"I'm male," he tried again, seeing her run a tongue across her lip. His attention focused on that one sexy detail, like a fish yielding to the charms of a glittering hook decoration. He was so absorbed that he jumped, cracking one knee painfully beneath the underside of the table as Laura placed a hand on his thigh.  
  
She giggled. "Silly Dave...When was the last time you had your way with a lady?"  
  
"Can't remember." He said, tongue slick as if it had been covered in mud.  
  
"Aw, you poor thing. So I take it you sleep alone every night?"  
  
"No," David answered truthfully. "My dog hogs half the bed."  
  
Laura began to titter, tossing her hair back behind one shoulder as David noted how easy it was to make her happy. _She's only laughing because she wants to bed me_, he realized. Fine with him. Her hand wasn't about to begin to disagree; slowly stroking up and down his black clad thigh. The naughty touch lulled him into a trance, mind swirling like her fingers that drew small circles with her nails. Catatonic wasn't her middle name - that was for sure.  
  
Beyond their table, a man stood up unsteadily to his feet, thankful that his voice was a little more sober than his walk as he leaned over to his stool neighbor.  
  
"You wanna play darts?" he asked.  
  
"Dude, you're drunk," the other pointed out.  
  
Said drunken man gave a dorky grin. "I know, but that's the fun part! Come on!"  
  
"Not again," Will groaned, but couldn't bite back a laugh as both men lumbered over to the hung dart board. Cindy, rounding the corner of the bar, shook her head and patted the drunk challenger on his shoulder.  
  
"Remember to aim for the board this time, bub. Ol' Jack's going to kill us if he find any more holes in the wall."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know." The man gave her a thumbs up and a smirk. "Cindy, you happen to forget that I won a bunch of marksmanship trophies in my day, and on all of them, engraved in gold, is the name Kevin Ryman. And if you look at this name tag -" Kevin pointed, finger pressing into his left nipple, and he let out a squealish laugh. "Woops, I forgot I was off duty. Anyway, if I was wearing it, it would say 'Officer Ryman'. Don't forget that," he told Cindy.  
  
"Well, I never knew your nipple was pierced, but if I recall, the tag went here..." Cindy placed one small hand around Kevin's and shifted his finger over to his pectoral muscle. "Much better. Now move, you big lug, I have a table to serve."  
  
David's law dropped before he regained his composure. _Well shit, if it isn't Officer Ryman. Scratch that, he's off duty. So his first name is Kevin..._ the black-haired plumber thought, attention having been distracted from Laura as soon as he heard the mention of the man. It definitely was the same person, minus the RPD uniform he had on before. Now he wore a simple white T-shirt with faded blue jeans, which - to David's odd fascination - showed off his body quite nicely _Wait - what? Quite nicely? What in the hell is that suppose to mean? So he's ripped and oh shit, Dave, turn your brain off. Stop lookin' at a man and focus on the nice package grinding into your side - not to mention that curious hand -  
_  
"Here ya go, two Jalapeno Pepperjack Cheeseburgers." Cindy chirped, returning to the table with the two plates balanced on one petite hand. "Wow, thanks you guys, now I don't have to remember which is which!" the blonde laughed, placing the dishes on the table. Laura laughed too, pulling her hand from beneath the table to her meal as Cindy walked away.  
  
David frowned in disappointment, watching as Laura curled her tiny hands around her big juicy burger. Mouth dry, David picked up his own and took a bite, eager to ease at least one of his hungers - the other burning hot beneath his belt. _Down boy, calm down. What's wrong with you, Dave? Gettin' all excited over nothin'. Focus on the burger - your burger damn't, not hers - and certainly not the way she's wrapping those big plump lips around it -  
_  
A loud crash tore everyone's attention to the furthest corner of the room where the dart board hung. Kevin stood, bent over at the waist laughing, hands slapping his knees as Will cursed and stomped over to inspect the damage.  
  
"How in the hell did you manage to do this?" The bartender asked, picking up a small table that had been knocked over.  
  
"Hehe, woops, I swear that wasn't there earlier. Fuckin' tables have legs, ya know? Haha, they have legs - get it? Walking tables, hahahah!" Kevin endured many stares, one being the man who refrained from slapping his hand to his forehead at the horrible joke. That man was David.  
  
"...Shut up and go sit down Kevin." Will snapped, obviously not amused  
  
"Aww," the 31 year old whined.  
  
"I'm serious, you've had way too much to drink. Now sit." Will warned, arms crossed as he tapped his foot on the floor. Kevin smiled cynically.  
  
"Psh, only 2...5 drinks. I'm so sober I could walk a straight line!" he vowed pompously.  
  
Will was doubtful. "Okay then, Kevin, you're the cop here. I want to see you walk from this side of the room over to the door."  
  
Kevin posed one hand under his chin as if he was pondering some great miracle. "Shouldn't I be giving the orders if I'm the cop?"  
  
Will glared. "I'm waiting."  
  
Kevin huffed, lumbering into position like a moody child. "Fine. Don't get your panties in a knot."  
  
"Bet you 10 bux he can't do it." Laura said, smiling at David who glanced back at her.  
  
"Oh come on, like I don't know the outcome already." He turned to watch the spectacle.  
  
Kevin gave it his best - boot heel over to touch boot tip as he concentrated as hard as a tight rope walker would 50 feet above the ground. And he thought he was doing well, placing his hands on his hips proudly as he reached the door. "There, are ya happy now?"  
  
"Funny version of a straight line." David murmured, reaching for his hamburger again.  
  
"Well...I am surprised you managed to stay upright," Will began. "But I've seen one legged penguins waddle straighter than that. Go sit down, Kevin." He thrust one finger out towards a vacant stool next to the cash register.  
  
The bar returned to normal, filled with the constant drone of voices, the clank of bottles, and laughter. Kevin, unlike his usually flamboyant self, pouted over to his seat. Unceremonly he dropped himself onto the leather cushion, scrabbling at the bar counter before he tipped off the stool. Cindy giggled, walking over to Kevin, placing a hand on his back as she gave him a coke full of Maraschino cherries and paper umbrellas.  
  
"For the biggest little kid I know," she said with a smile, giggling as Kevin started to fiddle with a yellow toothpick umbrella.  
  
"This isn't going on my tab, is it?" Kevin asked, looking worried.  
  
"It's on the house." Cindy reassured him. He huffed out a sigh and started drinking.  
  
On the other side of the bar, David sat listening to Laura's happy chatter.  
  
"When I first saw you, I thought I had dialed the wrong number," Laura confessed, dipping her French fry into a pool of sauce that had escaped from her burger. "I was worried that I had gotten a disguised exotic dancer."  
  
"Why's that?" David asked, swallowing the rest of his burger.  
  
"I had been expecting the stereotypical plumber. You know..." She twirled her finger to coax the words from her mouth. "The type that I would rather have fix their own crack rather than the one in my pipes, if you know what I mean."  
  
"I get that a lot. Sorry to disappoint you." He apologized, although he knew she was pleased.  
  
"Well if that is disappointment, then I'd love to be disappointed more often," she purred dreamily. David had dreams of his own.  
  
"Hah, me as a stripper..." he said aloud, imagining what it would be like. He saw himself walking into her yard, giving a voluptuous sway of his hips as he walked closer. Hands swift, he would tear the tie from his hair and shake the strands out, at the same time whipping his belt off so he could begin swinging it above his head like a helicopter. He'd throw the belt to the steps and tear his shirt down the middle before throwing it off in shreds. As the finale, he would bend down and grasp his suit by the knees and pull it off in one go.  
  
_Yeah, except if it was real, my belt buckle would get caught, I'd get my hair tie tangled before I tore a big chunk of hair from my scalp, and I'd trip over my pants. How sexy._ David chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't think that's the line of work for me," he admitted.  
  
"Pity..." Laura signed, reaching up to gently pull on his tied-back hair. Eyelids fluttering, David was once again reminded how much he liked his hair touched. He relaxed beneath the caress. _You're an odd, odd man, Dave._  
  
Laura pressed nudged her hips closer to his and returned her hand to his thigh. He bit back a moan as her fingertips toyed with the metal clasp of his zipper. "If tonight goes well, would you consider giving it a try?"  
  
"Yes," David said simply, body tensing again. Laura grinned and reached for her drink, but stopped short when she realized never ordered one.  
  
"Say Dave, do you think you could go get me something to drink? I'm having a huge craving for a bottle of Bud."  
  
David pulled his leg from her grasp as he stood up. "Sure. Bet back in a minute."  
  
David was mentally cursing. _Damn't, I don't that dope of a policeman to see me here. He might reconsider that ticket or - worse yet - try to talk to me. What could I say to him? 'Sorry Officer, I think you're pretty good lookin', but please excuse me while I go back to my table to get groped?' Then I could get charged for indecent sexual conduct in public. Whee.  
_  
He walked up to the bar, furthest from Kevin as possible who had begun practicing tying cherry stems with his tongue. It was a pitiful sight, seeing Kevin gag, face twisting as he coughed. David felt like a deer evading a hunter. _Okay, so he's a really dull hunter. I'm not here, he can't see me, I'm not here.  
_  
"Hey Dave, what'll it be?" Will asked, stepping up to the counter, polishing a glass with a white towel.  
  
"Just a glass of Bud."  
  
Will gave him an incredulous look, walking over to the tap to pour ice cold beer into the newly cleaned glass. "What's wrong with you - drinkin' crap like this? I thought you hated it."  
  
"It's for the lady friend." David explained, tilting his head towards the table where Laura sat, munching on fries. "I'm more of a Jaegermeister man myself."  
  
"Ah." The other man said, turning to see Cindy approaching with that popular bright smile on her face.  
  
"Got a spare straw, Will? I ran out."  
  
"Yeah, they're in my pocket. Just a second," he said, handing David the glass full of beer. But before he could finish, Cindy reached over and snatched one paper-wrapped tube, grinning triumphantly.  
  
"Thank ya dear," she said before trotting off towards her next customer.  
  
David looked at Will in amusement, watching the younger mans cheeks pinkening. "What?" Will snapped when he turned to David.  
  
"You really should ask her out." The dark man suggested, setting the drink down.  
  
"Cindy's just a friend."  
  
David snorted. "I bet you keep a journal and write about every time she smiles."  
  
"I do not!" Will retorted, a little louder than intended because he lowered his voice immediately afterwards. "Besides, I'm not the only one here who's pining."  
  
"Huh?" David said, attention focused on Kevin who had stood and began to beg another man at the bar to buy him a drink. He could just hear his pleading voice, saying "Please? Just one?"  
  
"I had no idea you swung that way." Will continued, watching David watch Kevin. "Dave, you really need to ask him out. Hell, I bet you keep a journal and write about every time he smiles."  
  
"Can it, Will." David glared, picking up the glass of Bud. "I'm just a little weary of a cop who's an alcoholic. That's all. Put the drink on the check, will ya?" Seeing Will nod, David returned to the table. Laura smiled, patting one hand on his vacant chair.  
  
"I missed ya," Laura said, fluttering her dark eyelashes, full lips down- turned in a pout.  
  
David slid her the glass. "Did you? Or did you want the beer?"  
  
Laura curled her fingers around her drink, leaving damp streaks across the condensation. She lowered her eyelids coyly and took a short sip from her drink. "I want both," she breathed. "What is it that you want, Dave?"  
  
His stomach spoke for him. "I want ketchup. Could you pass me that bottle?"  
  
Laura let out a small sigh and handed over the condiment, beginning to talk again. David really didn't catch a word of it after he murmured a quick "thanks" and tended to his French fries. The white cap on the Heinz bottle popped as it was removed; the sign of a fresh bottle. But where there was novelty, there was struggle.  
  
_These glass bottles should be illegal_, David groaned, giving it a heartfelt, upside down shake towards his pile of fries. Unyielding, the thick sauce didn't budge.  
  
Laura's motherly attitude returned for the occasion, treating David like she would her daughter. "I don't think that will work, Dave. Here, hand it over."  
  
Nimble fingers pick up the knife from her hamburger plate. With practiced ease, Laura slid the knife into the bottle neck, twisting the blade until a splotch of red fell to the plate. _I swear, the only reason they bring knives with the burgers is to unplug the god damn ketchup bottles_, David told himself before accepting the bottle back from Laura who wore a triumphant grin. Turning the bottle upside down, David returned the smile shakily, ready to announce victory but before he can, the bottle plugged up again.  
  
"God damn't!" he hissed, ignoring Laura's happy twittering, determined to eat his fries with ketchup even if it meant shattering the bottle. _So I like ketchup, and it doesn't like me,_ he thought, giving the bottle one, two shakes –  
  
-_Ketchup, you shall_ _obey!_ -  
  
-and the ketchup did, letting loose half the contents of its bottle right onto David's plate, smothering the fries entirely. A few droplets managed to fly and stick to David's shirt. "Aw crap." Meanwhile, Laura was nearly toppled over in her chair. "Don't laugh at me," David glared pitifully.  
  
"Oh, it's okay honey," Laura managed between breaths, patting his arm lightly. "Just be thankful you were already wearing red."  
  
"True..." David considered, before setting the bottle down. All around them people had turned towards Laura's commotion, blinking like owls. That crowd included Kevin.  
  
David shrunk into his seat, dipping his fingers into the pool of tomato and vinegar in search of his hiding French fries, acting as if nothing happened. Laura, too, returned to her meal and took a generous gulp of her Budweiser, waiting for backs to turn around in their seats.  
  
David swallowed a fry. "So...that's was...fun."  
  
"Yeah, good goin', dork." Laura replied, raising a hand to catch a ketchup drop off his shirt fabric. It resembled a small prickle of blood on her pale finger tip, which disappeared between her equally red lips. David shivered involuntarily.  
  
"I can't help it if I'm special," the plumber retorted, wiping his own fingers on his napkin. That's when he heard footsteps approaching from behind. The hair rose on the back of his neck, feeling the heat of a warm body directly behind him. _Oh no, it can't be...!_  
  
"Is everything all right?" a voice asked, and David relaxed his mental cringe. He looked over one shoulder to see the bright smile and blonde hair of Cindy Lennox, who had decided to check on her customers like the dedicated waitress she was.  
  
"Everything's fine." Laura chirped.  
  
Cindy smirked at David. "That's good. I see you had a little trouble with your ketchup, sir."  
  
"..."  
  
"Would you like me to help you clean up?" Cindy asked.  
  
"I'm fine," he answered, reaching for a clean napkin as Cindy pranced off.  
  
Laura gave him a look. "Geez Dave, a little overly independent, are we?"  
  
"It's not a bad thing," he said. "I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself." Little did she know how true that was, considering the abundance of messes David had unwound himself from in the past. _No one will ever need to know..._ David repeated silently for what felt like the millionth time, as if he was still trying to convince himself. _Don't depress yourself Dave, now is not the time. You've got a fine piece of lady dished out in front of you...It's time to make your move_.  
  
Fondly, David looked Laura over, reminding himself of every perfect detail – those full, feminine lips, her high arched plucked brows, the gentle sweep of her eyelashes as she blinked. And her nose...her nose with its gentle dip before the tip perked up. _Such a nice nose..._  
  
Wait, something was awkward. David concentrated on her eyes again, which weren't focused on him, but on something, and that something was distracting her attention past his shoulder.  
  
"Speaking of big boys...Dave, do you know anyone else here?" she asked.  
  
"No," he answered, "Not besides Will. Why?"  
  
"You've got a hunk giving you quite the look-down from the bar." Laura said, a delighted quirk touching her lips.  
  
David inwardly cringed, but played it cool. "Oh...is that so?" he asked, beginning to turn his head to glance at his spy.  
  
Laura's words were like a punch to the gut, immobilizing him with shock. "You don't have to turn around Dave, he's on his way over as we speak.  
  
_No nonono don't let him recognize me. Maybe he's just going to the bathroom – he had a lot to drink right? Right? Officer Ryman, you have a call on hold from nature on line one...  
_  
It was quite obvious that the muted thumps of rubber-soled boots were coming straight towards them. David did the only thing could do - besides run out the front door, that is - and continued to sit as if he didn't notice the approaching officer. The footsteps stopped, Laura raising one lean hand to give a welcoming wave. What David expected to hear was a stern voice, hard and unrelenting. What he heard caused him to drop his french fry into his puddle of condiments with a plop.  
  
"Hello there, ladies! You gals come here often?"  
  
Laura blinked and then burst out in hysterics again, watching David's expression turn from neutral to a mortified humiliation. "Excuse me?" he snapped.  
  
Kevin was unfazed, neither bothing to notice that David was male or that he was still drunk. "Hey, calm down beautiful, no need to get hostile! I just saw you two lovely things sitting over here all by your lonesome selves and I thought you needed some male attention. Care if I sit?"  
  
-_Why I oughta_ -  
  
"Care to buy us ladies a drink?" Laura interupted, scooting aside as Kevin pulled a chair up to the table. Apparently if there was free alcohol involved, Laura was willing to play along with the drunk, to Davids great dismay.  
  
"Absolutely!"  
  
A minute later Kevin was at the bar, asking for a bottle of peach Schnapps, adding, "It's not for me" with a gesture towards Laura and David. Will put down the bottle frowning sourly at the cop. Kevin, being obliviously unaware started back for the table.  
  
"Who is this guy?" Laura asks, smiling as David pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to relieve his growing headache. He simply shrugged. "He thinks you're a woman!"  
  
"He's completely plastered." David pointed out, watching Kevin as he tripped over his own clumbsy foot whilst turning from the bar.  
  
Kevin returned with the bottle of Schnapps and three clean glasses - only two of which Will gave to him. The other he had snatched from a couples table while they flirted obsessively with one another. Mouth up-turned ear to ear with his armful of clanking glasses, Kevin approached the table.  
  
"If you want it on the rocks, then you'll have to bug Will yourselves," Kevin began to say, setting the drinks down one after the other. He lowered his voice to a conspicuous whisper. "But I wouldn't try it, 'cause I think he's got a badger up his bum."  
  
Laura began to giggle again, as Kevin pulled back his chair, but the happy sound turned to aghastment as Kevin lost his footing and -  
  
Crash!  
  
"Watch it!" Will yelled from his place at the bar as Kevin tripped, his dead weight slamming into the table and nearly knocking it from its legs. Laura shrieked as the drinks went flying, sluicing her shirt in a cold splash of Schnapps. David, on the other hand, narrowly avoided the splatter of ketchup as the bottle near him toppled over. The plumber jumped to his feet, hands gripping Kevin's wide shoulders until his knuckles turned white with the strength it took to stabilize the man. David could feel the hardened coil of muscles beneath his grasp before he let go in a shudder of disgust. _What the hell am I thinking? Stupid stupid hormones. Fuck, what I have is worse; might as well call them whoremoans.  
_  
"Stop moving, hold still!" David snapped at Kevin, watching the cop begin to lurch forward with a drunken laugh. Reacting on the instant, David wound his arms around the policeman's waist in a desperate attempt to save both he and the man from collapsing to the wooden floor. Even with David's heavier mass - 203 lbs against 197 - he had to muster all his strength to harness the dead weight of the other man.  
  
Kevin's head continued to spin as he leaned his body into David's in a pathetic attempt to stay on his feet. Hands desperately grasped for whatever hold they could and found their grip in all the wrong places.  
  
"H-hey, watch the hands!" David yelped as he felt the strong, wide palms of the officer grab his ass. He immediately turned red and vainly considered pushing the other man away to find other help. But said other help was on their way in the form of Cindy Lennox, who jumped forth at the outburst with a worried expression pinching her delicate face. Always ready to help but unsure of how, Cindy stopped when she took in the scene. She flushed at David's wide-eyed expression as Kevin grinned incoherently.  
  
"Kevin!" She blurted. "Stop molesting the customers!"  
  
If they hadn't been staring before, then the entire bar sure as hell was after that. Everyone but Laura, who was near to tears of laughter, was slack-jawed. David grit his teeth irritably and pried Kevin's hands from digging into his rear. Whether this was done to relieve his embarrassed social or physical discomfort was unknown to David, as was his bodies reaction to the whole situation. It seemed like no matter how much he told himself that he didn't like being groped by a man, that he didn't like men, his body continued to betray him.  
  
"Nothing to see here!" Kevin said, shooing at the many faces pointed in his direction, stumbling slightly in the process . "I'm a cop, I can handle this, now return to your business!"  
  
Cindy walked over to Kevin, offering a hand to support the 31 year old. "Come on, let's go set you down somewhere while Will calls for a cab, okay?"  
  
_Does she think she can help him alone, bein' that small? You've got to be kidding me!_ the plumber thought before stepping up along side Kevin, offering a steady shoulder to lean on. Kevin looked surprised - hell, David was surprised, as well. Mentally he sighed. _I'm getting too soft_. Cindy looked at David's gesture thankfully. "Come on, I'll help. But no groping this time."  
  
"Yeah," Kevin grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that."  
  
The threesome made their way back to the table without incident, Kevin having one arm slung around David's shoulders, with Cindy standing on his other side. Kevin was able to regain some decent motor skills, dropping himself into the first available chair. He thanked David, who grunted in acknowledgment, leaving to pay the check, and Cindy who patted Kevin on the head with a giggle.  
  
"Just sit still and wait. We'll getcha home so you can sleep the rest of the day, until you go on duty tonight."  
  
Kevin groaned, stroking his temples. "God damn't, I completely forgot. Thank ya Cindy, I think I'll take your advice."  
  
Meanwhile, David had returned to Laura who walked outside with him wearing friendly smile. "Sorry about that."  
  
"Oh, it's okay Dave," she tittered. "It's not every day you get to see two guys bumping and grinding in a straight bar."  
  
David frowned. "Very funny."  
  
Laura smiled, leaning over to David with a wink. "No, really, I think it's great that your comfortable with your sexuality! Women really admire men who aren't afraid to be themselves, and stand up for being gay."  
  
Blinking, it took a moment for the words to sink in. David gawked. "What?"  
  
"You're homosexual, aren't you?" Laura asked, raising her eyebrows.  
  
"No!" David blurted in response.  
  
Laura smiled. "That's right, you like me don't you? Bisexual, then – are you bisexual?"  
  
"Yes, I like you. No, I'm not gay!"  
  
Laura laid a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay to be in denial, Dave."  
  
"I'm not in denial!"  
  
"I saw the way you looked at Kevin and, well, how you reacted to his touch."  
  
David snorted. "In horror, right?"  
  
An impish grin curled Laura's lips. "If you say so."  
  
"I do."  
  
She tsked. "Poor, poor Dave. Look, if it makes you feel any better about yourself, you should know that I'm bi too."  
  
"Good for you." David shuffled his boots, becoming uncomfortable with the conversation. "Can we change the subject?"  
  
Laura sighed. "You really need to talk about this – get it off your chest."  
  
"Not during a date."  
  
"Well, if you won't talk to me, then find someone else," she said, watching another couple approach from the street and enter the bar.  
  
"Like who?"  
  
She smirked coyly. "Heck, I don't know. Your dog?" her eyes flashed with hunger. "Kevin?"  
  
David sighed. "Nnngh"  
  
"You could go in right now, if you'd like. But I'd better get going," she glanced at her watch. "Marie's babysitter will be charging double soon."  
  
The dark-haired plumber shook his head. "I'll pass. You need a ride?"  
  
"Nah, I figured I'd call my boyfriend and have him pick me up."  
  
David caught his jaw from dropping._ That whore_.  
  
Laura shrugged as if she wasn't surprised at David's reaction. "You can never have too many...but you know, you could join us if you'd like. Greg is bisexual too, and I bet he'd love your hair..."

---  
  
TBC!


	7. Notes not again!

Time for a word from the author! (yeah, groan all you like ;P) It will be pretty random because I should really be working on a project due tomorrow ;  
  
I feel so mean! I mean come ON, I making Kevin look like an alcoholic molester XD If he reappears, I'll make him nicer. Maybe. Well..at least I'll consider it.  
  
And I feel like a dork, walkin around school all day with my face crammed in a notebook writing. I do it constantly! I write during the morning, during class, then at lunch (which I wrote a bunch today. I even walked through the cafeteria whilst writing, walking without looking. Hey, I managed to survive unscathed.) My friends are becoming worried XD  
  
LaVixen- I still like your story better. I tend to go overboard with all that description junk, so my stories get boring so extremely fast, while you have more real time action in yours. And as for the characterization (I can't spell that either :X) I think mine is horrible...I make David talk too much and Kevin is...well, see above XD And I would have gone on with the shower scene, but I would have enjoyed it too much, I think. I try to not seem as perverted as I really am...ahha. And of course you can beta read my story. Would you like to be the first to see my newest fic? (which I plan to have finished by Saturday at the latest.)  
  
KrazyKitsune- I love the ass grabbing scene too. Okay, so I admit I'm not an angel, but I couldn't NOT put that in the story. RPing is so much fun! I've roped one person in to play with me as Kevin (WHOO) and I would love to have other people play other Outbreak characters. We could make up some big dysfunctional group XD But it's going to be yaoi for me and my bud (Kevin x David, of course!). We havent officially started yet, but I've already been inspired to write more stories.  
  
WarriorAthena- Up until this point I haven't considered adding anyone else. Heck, I was going to finish the story this next coming chapter. Hmm...I'll put some thought into adding more characters :D

Gosh, I really can't say when I'll update this fic again. Probably after June 9th... =/ I hope y'all will remember me next post. ;D  
  
Annnnd that's all I have time for.


	8. I'm too lazy for a chapter title XD

Title: A Day in the Life of David King

Author: Cannibaljelloyahoo.com

Rating: PG-13 to be on the safe side.

Authors notes:

GAH! 10,756 words!? 24 pages with a 10 point font?? When will the madness end!?! :O!

I've formally given up saying that the length of these chapters couldn't possibly get any bigger, because I still, somehow manage to keep writing more and more. ;

I'm still terrified to see how long this next chapter will be...I already know what I'm going to do and I can only hope I won't write as much as this again.

Hmm...I bet my deadline XD! I could have posted this sooner, but the ending was being such a pain in my arsch that I just couldn't rush it. That's why I'm certain that this chapter is the worst yet. I definitely don't like it, because it just doesn't live up to the rest.

Anyways....I got the idea from my own school. Brandon _is_ a real person. In fact, he's my sophomore buddy in my Biology class, whom I see every day. I think I nailed his personality perfectly XD.

And yes, I got his permission to involve him as a character. Despite the fact that he hasn't read the fic for himself, he's still heard all about it and insists that he's my #1 fan. What a weirdo.

Hmm....

There will be two more chapters, I think. Remember, the title is a DAY in the life, not a week ;P!

Expect some more authors notes in the next few days. I haven't gotten around to replying to replies (o0;) which I love to do...I'll get to it soon enough!

===

It was going to be a interesting day.

Though I doubt it could get any more interesting, David promised himself. He could only hope. After all that had happened that day - including the date he had escaped from just minutes ago - he couldn't imagine anything as far-fetched to top the charts above all. Hell, things rarely got interesting at work. That's where David was now - pulling up his truck in front of the towns finest -_ hah -_ plumbing business. It was quite obvious to any passerby that David worked there, since he had traded in his stylish clothes for something more casually worn - his torn up blue jeans, white shirt, and coveralls.

I never thought I'd say this, but I've never been happier to be back, was David's first thought as he walked up to the building, the large lettering of Raccoon Plumbing Co. welcoming him back to his somewhat normal life. _No more dates, no more drunken cops, no more anything but me and my job,_ David told himself. After all that had happened, he was just glad to be back in his daily routine.

...Until he was greeted by Rick Walker at the door, wearing a shark-like grin that ran shivers up and down David's spine. _Turn back while you can Dave! Just spin those heels 180 degrees and sprint towards the truck as fast as your legs can take you_, his inner voice urged in alarm. Something was definitely fishy, and although David was afraid to ask, he'd know soon enough…

He was right to have worried.

"You're kidding!"

Rick laughed, taking a seat at his front desk. He handed David a bunch of papers. "No Dave, I'm perfectly serious."

It only took a short downward glance before the printed words Raccoon High shocked David. "Please tell me you're joking," he pleaded, now knowing that Rick was honest.

"Nope, sorry. Now get to work."

It's time for desperate measures, and if it takes begging, then I will beg. On my knees. "Oh come ON, can't you torture someone else?"

"But you're my favorite." Rick winked.

"Then why are you trying to _kill_ me!?"

"Oh one little sophomore won't harm ya. Stop over-reacting, Mr. Pessimist."

"Over-reacting? Pfft!"

Rick just smiled, obviously amused at David's dishevelment.

"Like I said, it's just a sophomore."

David howled, shaking the papers in his gloved hand. He was putting all his effort towards not massacring the papers as a trail of destruction on the floor. "It's not 'just a sophomore'! It's an _apprentice_! To make things worse, it's a _sophomore apprentice_! Argh!"

"Yup."

"Why me?"

"Quit whining. The sooner ya get to work with the kid, the sooner you can kick his ass out."

David sighed, skimming the papers. "How long do I have?"

"The kid needs two hours to pass the high school requirements."

"Two hours of _hell," _David groaned.

"It can't be that bad, Dave," Rick tried to reason.

David wasn't amused. "Bite me."

Leaving Rick behind, David walked to the workers lounge where he would find a spare pair of coveralls and gloves for the kid. He decided he would be fine with lending the boy his own tool belt, plainly because he was too lazy to dig out a spare set.

As soon as he returned to the front area with the coveralls thrown over one shoulder, gloves hanging in hand, David could sense Rick had more to say._ Enlighten me, you traitor!_

"Dave?"

"What?" he snapped, turning to Rick to find him holding out a small note pas. The pages were blank, causing David to raise a questioning eyebrow at his co-worker. He was afraid to ask, but did any ways. "What's this?"

"The high school requires that you keep record of Brandon's attitude and work abilities. You gotta write a recommendation. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"Pack it in you bastard, I'm miserable," the plumber hissed, turning around once more to stomp towards the door, making as much racket as possible to display his displeasure.

Rick cackled, waving one large hand. "Have fun Dave."

The Raccoon Plumbing Co.'s front door slammed shut.

===

David had never been more afraid to knock on a residential door. It had been a long truck ride of cursing, swearing, and formation of revengeful plots. But now he was on enemy territory and nothing could save him now. _Get it over with already!_

Seeing no door bell, David raised his hand to knock, recoiling his clenched fist as the door swung open to reveal a grinning female face.

Oh my god, Please tell me it's not another Sheila Armstrong, David pleaded to whatever higher power was listening. The face was nearly the same - make-up painted and grinning like a lovesick madwoman setting her eyes on the only man remaining alive. But it seemed she had different ideas then David presumed.

"Hiya mister, are you here for my boy?" she rasped with cancer-swollen lungs. Instead of waiting for David's answer, she turned her head towards the inside of the house and made it known that her voice was as boisterous as her appearance. "Brandon!" she shrilled, then added in a sing-song voice. "You're friend is heeeeeeerrrre!"

Despite the ring of his eardrums, David could still hear himself laugh. _'Friend?' Hah…_

The woman looked back at him, giving him a wink. David thought he'd be sick. "You're pretty cute for a plumber! I hope my son grows up to be just like you! Just look at those biceps, whoo!"

David was confused, since he always kept his sleeved rolled up only to expose his elbows. Then again, he didn't doubt that the woman was one card short of a full house. _Just keep three steps between you and her, and if the worst comes down, there always your trusty pocket knife in your utility belt…_

Of course he wasn't being serious. He was just unsure how to act around such a flamboyant, perky middle-aged woman. He just let her continue her random chatter, listening with half an ear, confused by what little he managed to catch.

"You look like a fella who can take care of himself. That's good! If my son gives you any lip - and I mean _any_ - I want you to smack those big chops of his! You know how teenage boys are! That boy needs some discipline. Ya see, his awful father aint here to give him some fatherly attention. That good for nothin' bastard, leavin' us to run off with some blonde whorin' little -"

"_Mom!_" A voice yelled from further inside the house, followed by the tremendous thundering thumps of a teenager's clumsy oversized feet, which hurried towards the door. "Stop bothering the plumber!"

David took his time to study the boy as he clashed with his mother in a verbal war. Random lines struck through David's haze of contemplation, such as "Don't use that tone with me mister!" and "You do this _every single time_ mother!"

By Brandon's deep natural tan and jet black hair which stood in tall spikes, David guessed that the boy was of Hawaiian decent. As if his complexion wasn't enough, he also had the facial structure. David guessed he was about 5'8", give or take, and as skinny as a stick. He wore a shapeless white shirt with - _wouldn't ya know it -_ a Hawaiian design. A pair of capris was anchored to his thin waist by a brown leather belt. To top it all off, Brandon sported a new and spotless pair of tennis shoes.

David groaned inwardly. _This boy's too clean to be a plumber…_

As David brought himself back to the real world, he noticed that he and Brandon stood alone outside the front door. Apparently his mother had retreated after the fierce battle was lost.

"So," Brandon started, looking David up and down skeptically. "You're a plumber?"

"..."

"…Oookay." The 16-year old stepped forward to introduce himself, extending a hand. "Name's Brandon."

David stared at the unscarred, unmarked hand. Brandon's fingers and palm were smooth, uncalloused of crackes - certainly not a plumbers hand. At least not yet. David thought of his own paws, unable to remember when his looked that young…

Brandon leaned forward, nearly touching nose tip to nose tip with David, causing the older man to snap back to attention and lean away protectively. He stared futilely at the young man. Brandon's eyes were as rich as black coffee, with the reflection of light as the creamer which glowed white with amusement. Brandon was staring expectantly at David.

"Do _you_ have a name?"

"…"

"Do you _know_ how introductions work?"

"..."

"Don't you talk?"

David glanced away, staring desperately at the truck. _Just get me out of here already!_

"Helllooo-o-o-o? Do you speak English?"

"..."

Irritated, the young man raised one stiff fingers to start poking David in the arm. David thought to himself, _I can plan this game forever,_ and saw the challenge in Brandon's eyes.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

David felt his body temperature begin to rise

Poke. Poke. Poke.

His arm became tender.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

That's it!

"STOP!" he snapped, slapping Brandon's hand away.

"Ah HAH! So you do talk!" Brandon laughed victoriously. "Let's try this again! Hi, I'm Brandon and you must be…?"

"…"

"That's your cue to tell me your name."

"David," the plumber grunted, rolling his eyes at the others playfulness.

Brandon clapped his hands, mimicking a delighted toddler. "Great! We've made some progress! I've

managed to leach a name out of the man of few words!"

David glared. "You ready to go?"

Always enthusiastic, Brandon beamed and began to bounce towards the truck, yelling "Of course!" over his shoulder. As Brandon reached the truck, he turned to face the house, and - apparently inheriting his mothers strong voice - yelled a good-bye to his mother. David couldn't help but grimace as he opened the drivers side door.

Brandon climbed in the other seat, yanking the door so hard it sounded as if it would break from its metal hinges. Uncaring, he then hopped in the car, bouncing on the seat cushion like a bundle of rampant energy. He nearly catapulting his light body upwards until he could have hit his head on the car roof.

"Don't get a concussion on me," David warned, seeing Brandon give him a thumbs-up and a goofy grin, showing off his pearly whites against his caramel skin. _Well, perhaps a concussion would do me some good. If he knocked himself out, I wouldn't complain - at least not now. I will when I get back to work. I am _so _going to kill Rick for this!_

"So, what's our mission, Dave?" Brandon asked, seeming inherently chirpy. His gung-ho attitude pulled David's attention off of Rick, if only for the moment. It made David fear for his own life, instead of worrying over his coworkers.

Don't kill the plumber, the older man thought. "We got a call from Applegate, in South West Raccoon. Someone's got a sink leak, I guess."

Brandon nodded, resting a hand against his chin. He lowered his eyelids slightly, while his eyebrows went up, mimicking thought. "Sounds simple enough!"

"…Right."

Brandon was excited. "What do you want me to do, Dave?"

"You do whatever I tell you to do," the professional plumber grumbled.

Always enthusiastic and ready to go, Brandon grinned. "Oky doky! Is there anything I can do to prepare myself? You got any words of wisdom for your beloved student?"

Beloved wasn't exactly the word of choice David would have used in this situation. To elucidate this, David warned, "Just stay the hell out of my way."

Unchafed hands flew up in surrender. "Okay okay, Geez, you don't have to get so hostile!"

There was the promise of a peaceful car ride, as Brandon seemed intent on staring at each passing tree and mailbox. David wouldn't dare complain…at least until said promise was broken by the blaring of the truck radio. Deep pounding techno beats filled the truck interior, pulsing through the metal frame. David nearly jumped from his seat at the abrupt burst of noise. Ponytail flipping across his shoulder, David's head snapped to the side to see Brandon's fingers manipulating the control panel.

"Sorry Dave," Brandon apologized. "I just couldn't stand the quiet. You don't mind, do you?"

Though he did, David answered with a grunt and let Brandon interpret it for himself. _I'll live,_ David reassured himself. _And if I don't…the kid's goin' down with me._

As they entered the neighborhood, David was sure the truck could be heard from blocks away. By the areas appearance, David knew he hadn't been through the neighborhood before, though he had heard of it. The crime rate there was quite high and was often featured on the local news. But unlike on the television, the street wasn't packed with men in uniform, there were no flashing of red and blue on white and black, nor were there gunshots. In fact, there was no sound at all when the trucks ignition was cut. _Not that I care if it's peaceful. It'd be just my luck to have ran into Officer Ryman if some big bust went down._

Brandon was visibly unnerved by the quiet. He opened and slammed his door louder than necessary. "It's too quiet," he complained.

"Quit your bitchin'," David grumbled, stepping from the truck. He made certain it was locked - though he sincerely doubted it would be more than a minor distraction to a car jacker of any skill - _I should know with my past_ - before he circled around to the back of the truck. Reaching inside, David pulled out a spare pair of coveralls.

"Put this on," David ordered, tossing it to the younger man. Brandon just managed to catch the fluttering of cloth.

"Woah man, this aint baseball! Watch your pitch, will ya?" One mock glare later and Brandon was staring down at the battered material cradled in his tanned arms. "How sexy!" he laughed.

Rolling his eyes, David revealed the remainder of the outfit, having pulled his trusty utility belt from the back of the truck. He smirked wickedly at the heavy tools which clanged against each other inside the worn leather, then at Brandon who stared back with eyes as wide as a doe.

"Don't you dare…!" the Hawaiian squeaked.

"Who's going to stop me?" David challenged.

Brandon stuttered, unable to grasp a witty comeback.

"That's what I thought," the older man said, approaching the young man who backed up defensively. With a solid push, David forced the tool belt into the others arms, pushing it against Brandon's flat chest. "Put it on," David ordered.

Nodding, Brandon obeyed. He stepped into the baggy suit, and as he began to zip up the front, David smiled to himself as the other began to struggle with the belt buckle. "Help?" Brandon pleaded.

David shook his head. "You're a big boy. Do it yourself."

Kinda reminds me of when I was his age, when I got my first real job. But I wasn't that annoying. Or short. And I dressed better.

Seeming not to mind, Brandon continued to follow David like a loyal puppy as the ponytailed plumber began to walk to the apartment complex's' front door. Brandon was finally clothed and ready to go after his long battle with the troublesome buckle. But something had changed in the boys flamboyant demeanor.

Brandon looked at David, face hard with seriousness. It made David feel uneasy, even more so when Brandon spoke. "David," he said. "Can I ask you a question?"

Is he fuckin' with me? David thought, studying the shorter man. Deciding it was better to find out later, he shrugged. "Sure."

"David…" There was a tense pause, "…do you feel phat and sassy?"

The question shattered David's concentration. He must have looked comically confused as he managed to stutter, "Who you callin' fat?"

Brandon laughed gleefully, holding up his hands as if to defend himself from an impending attack. "Phat, as in P-H-A-T."

That's….a pretty damn weird question.

"Uhh…no?"

Brandon pouted his full lips as if he'd expected David to play along. "Well, _I _think you're phat and sassy."

Unsure how to react, David uttered a simple "oookay," and opened the front glass door.

A plaque mounted on the wall ensured the two men that the building was 13648 SW Applegate Apartments - the proper destination. Quickly, the two males found themselves tapping their feet whilst waiting for an elevator. _At least this one works, _David tried to reason. _All I need is to be forced to walk up ten flights of stairs with chirpy boy here. Neither of us would ever make it to the client, 'cause we'd both have strangled each other before the half-way mark._

Hell, David wouldn't ignore the fact that he would like to have strangled the kid right then and there, because of his compulsive bright smiling and constant aura of movement. Moments later, David had to restrain himself from making his thoughts reality when Brandon began to chatter.

"Can I push the buttons?" the teenager begged, before he began chanting, "Can I? Can I? Can I?"

David hit the upwards-pointing arrow. "No."

"Awww! But Dadddd!" Brandon whined, voice high with restrained laughter.

"Don't you _dare_ call me that!" David snapped. "Besides, I'm not even old enough to be your father."

Brandon frowned, then began to bounce the heels of his feet, making David wonder how little Marie -who was so much younger than the sophomore - could act so much more mature.

Brandon wouldn't be deterred by David's rashness. Once inside the elevator, Brandon went on persistently. "What floor?"

"Tenth, I think…" David muttered, hands digging into his pockets to find the paper of details.

Meanwhile, Brandon hopped to the door panel. He raised one pointed finger to punch the button. "Aiight!" he whooped in triumph. But David, never beaten, had other plans. As soon as the metal doors closed shut, David hit the first floor button. The doors slid open again.

"What in the hell are you doin'?" Brandon cried.

"Ruining your fun," David answered. Then he punched the tenth floor button. "I win."

Brandon frowned. For a moment David expected the testosterone-ridden teenager would be confident enough to challenge his superior. Instead, Brandon began hopping from one foot to the other while the elevator began to rise. He was about as nervous and twitching as a rabbit, making David uneasy in the process. To make matters worse and more torturous for the ponytailed plumber, Brandon began to sing. Although David had never seen it himself, he was sure the tune was form Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat.

Someone please kill me.

No, the elevator didn't plummet David to his awaiting death. Instead, it arrived at its floor with a cheery _ping!_ that tore David away from his self-loathing misery for a moment. Before the door was fully opened, David had pushed himself free, eager to escape the small space where he had been trapped with the hyper-active teen. Said teen still continued to stay close, with his big feet thumping in sync with David's. David, looking down to study the address again, could see the tennis shoes invading his peripheral vision. Each step seemed to echo through the long hallways - a constant reminder of what David was forced to endure. Finally coming across room 564, those footsteps stopped.

"Here we are," David muttered, more to himself than to Brandon, who watched as David folded the paper and tucked it away in his breast pocket.

He wasn't surprised when Brandon asked, "Can I at least knock? Or is there some sort of top secret plumbers code way of doin' it?"

David considered giving some half-ass remark, but let it pass. "If it's too difficult for you, then speak up. I don't have all day."

Face hardening in defiance, Brandon raised a fist and pounded it against the wood. Seconds later, the door jerked open to reveal an English man. The first detail that caught David's attention was the intensity of the man's eyes, which twinkled with a self-assuredly with underlying intelligence. Both eyes sat within a calm, mature face which could have passed for movie star handsome.

Perhaps the mans clothes helped support the idea. Reminding David of a university professor, the wore a tailored ash gray blazer with matching pants. Below this he wore a burgundy vest above a cream collared dress shirt._ I hope that isn't his idea of casual wear, _David thought.

"Hello" the man said, extending a firm hand. "My name is George. I take it you're the plumbers?"

Brandon eagerly shook George's hand. Despite David passing the offer out of hygienic courtesy - he was wearing his gloves, after all - David could tell by the rigid motion that George gave a real mans handshake. George held his wrist in perfect posture, with his tendons tightening with the up and down motion. George was a gentleman - quite the opposite from grunts like himself.

David simply nodded in acknowledgment, allowing Brandon to make the introduction for them which Brandon was more than happy to do.

"Yup, we're two trusty plumbers! I'm Harry Clogg, and this my assistant Davey!"

Mentally, David gaped at that, appearing stoic as usual to the rest. Inside, he was mentally slack-jawed. _Assistant? Oh he's gonna get it._

"Harry and Davey, hmm…" George stepped back from the door, waving a hand towards the apartments interior. "Come in boys, I got just the job for you."

The two plumbers were lead to a very expensive and very classy kitchen. With its expensive marble countertops and stainless steel appliances, David knew the man - George - undoubtedly had money.

"My sink has begun to leak. It doesn't seem to be serious - yet. Then again, I'm not much of a handyman myself, if it wasn't already obvious enough." George tugged at the hem of his perfectly pressed blazer. "I know the job will be simple, but I think it's better fixed in the early stages rather than waiting."

"Easy is good," Brandon smiled, looking as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He definitely wouldn't deny a simple fix job. On the other hand, David was already planning a course of action. He treated ever problem as if it were serious, and because of his years of experience, he knew thinking in such a way paid off. Did Brandon, supposedly the mastermind between the two, know what to do? David was doubtful.

A gasp sounded from the other side of the grand apartment. All three men turned to see a woman standing in the kitchen entrance, covered only in a damp white silk robe. It was short and exposed her long, smooth, and attractive legs. There wasn't much else to hide from the imagination, except her hair. Since it appeared she had just stepped from the shower, her hair was in a towel that was bundled up on the top of her head.

"Glad to see the showers working," Brandon breathed at David's side, squeaking slightly as David stepped on top of and rested his full weight on his foot.

"Oh George!" the woman cried, wrapping her arms around her voluptuous chest which had been greatly exposed with the V-neck cut silk. "Why didn't you tell me company was over?"

"These are the plumbers, Kitty." George said simply.

There weren't many things that bothered David, yet this did_. You've got to be kidding me! Kitty? What a name…_David expected that the same thought was swirling in Brandon's own mind, yet the boy didn't speak up. Yet.

"Plumbers? Why do we need plumbers, George? Why don't you ever tell me anything anymore?" Kitty cried, tapping her bare foot on the floor.

George frowned. "Perhaps you just forgot," he told Kitty. Then to David and Brandon, he said, "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Both plumbers nodded, watching as George stepped up to the beautiful woman and led her into another room. When both disappeared from earshot,David leant close to Brandon and began speaking quietly.

"No tasteless pussy jokes, you hear me?" David warned. He saw the knowing grin work its way across Brandon's lips.

The young man snapped his fingers. "Darn. How'd you know?"

"I was a teenager once, myself."

The other laughed. "Unbelievable!" Brandon undoubtedly had a sense of humor.

Speaking of…

"What in the hell _were_ you thinking? Davey? Don't you dare call me that! And Harry Clogg? Pfft." David gave Brandon a thumbs down with one suede-gloved hand. "Lame."

"Hehe,_ I _thought it was funny. Don't think he understood it, though."

"And who's the boss here? Did I hear _you_ say that you were in charge?" David placed a hand on his hip. "In your dreams, little boy. Don't forget that."

Brandon gave a goofy grin. "Hey, you never know! I might have a natural knack for this line of work, and before you even know it, you'll be callin' me Sir. Or Master. Hey, if you don't want me to call you Davey," Brandon saw David grimace at the mention of the name. "then what should I call you - Boss?"

"No."

"Then can I call you Sir?"

David shook his head. "No damn't. I have a name for a reason."

"Okay sir -"

"- David -" he corrected.

"David, sir!" Brandon gave a mock salute, before he broke down laughing. David slapped his hand from his brow, just as the two home owners voices approached.

"Now _she_ is phat and sassy," Brandon breathed. "Buns of steel, definitely!"

David half-heartedly elbowed him in the side, causing Brandon to double over dramatically. "Behave," David growled.

"I got two words for you, Dave: Anger Management."

"And I got two words for you," David retorted. "Calm down! Stop thinking with your hormones." Though he meant it, David understood why Brandon mind had taken the fast lane towards the gutter. Kitty, despite her tacky name, was quite tasteful otherwise.

Kitty stepped into the room, closely followed by George. She had brushed her long hair which fell down her shoulders and back. It hung to her waist, but David's eyes fell even further. _Buns of steel is right. Damn, what an ass._ If David had Brandon in mind, the meaning would have been quite the opposite, but in a different context…

God, something is seriously screwed up today. I shouldn't be striking it this lucky - with all these fine female clients. Lucifer, if you're really there, what in the hell is it that you want from me? It's gotta be somethin' serious if you keep teasin' me like this.

Meanwhile, the others had been bickering.

"…Oh George, if only you had tried to fix it yourself!"

"I'm no plumber!" That was George speaking. "…And have you forgotten your manners? Introduce yourself!"

__

The woman stepped forward, offering a French-manicured hand which Brandon shook eagerly. "I am Victoria, but George insists on calling me Kitty. Ugh. And you may be…?"

David was relieved momentarily, until he was reminded of his own placed nickname. "That is Harry," George patted Brandon on the shoulder. "That quiet man is Davey."

Victoria nodded, then smiled at David as she eyed his ponytail with interest. _God, is it so unusual for a guy to have long hair? I swear, sometimes people act as if they've never seen it before._

George walked over to the sink. "Anyway, the leak is behind this cupboard." The three men moved to kneel before it, opening the doors to reveal the hidden pipes.

At first glance, David knew that the apartment must have been recently remodeled. The pipes looked aged, compared to the rest of the home. Did Brandon notice this? David decided to put Brandon in the spotlight.

"What does this look like to you, _Harry_?"

Brandon grinned, pleased that David played along with his scheme. "Aint it obvious? It's a leak! You heard the man."

"So what's the plan, _Boss?_" David put emphasis on that one four lettered word, which Brandon's ears picked up. He gave David a crooked glance.

"We plug it up."

By his hesitation, David knew he had Brandon backed into a corner. It was a pity George didn't have the slightest idea of what was happening. _Time to show 'em how a _real _professional works. And if that means putting Brandon's foot in his own mouth, the so be it._

"I have to disagree with you Harry." Already, David could see that Brandon was preparing himself for the attack. "Sure, plugging the leak would be a _temporary_ solution to our clients problem." David turned his eyes towards George, directing his speech at the man. "But as you mentioned before, you'd like to bring a conclusion to the problem before it worsens. It looks to me as though there is a probability that the pipe leak could become more severe if you don't correct the problem soon. "

David raised one gloved finger to point as he spoke. "See these rusted sections of the pipe? They are showing signs of forming corrosion. To place it in better words, the metal had become to deteriorate due to either oxidation or chemical contact. The pipe is susceptible to severe cracking or impairment, which may bring forth further leakage problems. This would not only tarnish the remainders of your plumbing system, but the water you drink and any surface the water could damaged."

Behind them, Victoria gasped breathily, "Is it that serious?"

David looked at her. "Not yet, but it will reach that level in - oh, I'd give it a month or two, give or take."

Victoria glared at George. "If only you'd done something sooner!"

"Damn't, Victoria, I may be a surgeon, but I couldn't fix a leaky pipe if my life depended on it!"

David was about to speak up, to say that it really wouldn't have mattered, but Victoria had her mouth cocked and ready to attack.

"You know why that is, George? It's because you aren't man enough! You never do anything around the house, you miserable bastard!"

At that sudden outburst, the lovely Victoria began to look less appealing, not only to David but to Brandon. David could see the same awe-stricken expression mirrored on Brandon's face. _That lady needs one of those bumper stickers on her ass that says 0 to bitch in 0.25 seconds, or however the saying goes. A guy would think twice before he began to drool._

George, unfazed by the woman's bipolarity, continued to defend himself. "I do a lot! You just don't appreciate anything I do for you! Don't you realize if _I _didn't have a job, you wouldn't be pampered, none the less clothed in all those fancy garments! How dare you tell me I'm lazy if you refuse to get a job for yourself!"

Victoria obviously didn't have a decent comeback. Instead, she drew the dramatic woman card. Back turned to the three men, she stomped down the hallway as loudly as her bare feet could manage on the plush carpet. The door slam was enough to rattle the wine glasses hung upside down over the countertops.

Neither of the plumbers knew what to do, and instead let George lead them into conversation.

"Please excuse Victoria. She exaggerates everything."

Brandon piped up. "Just like a woman, huh? We've all been there. It must be that time of the month, if you know what I mean."

"Must have been 'that time of the month' for the past 5 years." George muttered beneath his breath, brushing an imaginary piece of lint from his suit. "Anyway, I'd better hurry off to work. I'll leave it up to you two to decide what needs to be done. I have enough to pay for any pipe repairs - that is, unless my wife doesn't burn my savings out of spite."

It was easy for David to imagine Victoria striking a match over an oil-soaked pile of bills. _It's always the beautiful ones who are the worst…_

George had more to say. "Feel free to use anything you need while working. Victoria will be staying here, so you can go to her for any of your needs. But…it may be safer to help yourselves. Have fun," George said with a wave as he disappeared from the room. The front door opened and closed, leaving both plumbers standing in the kitchen, not entirely alone. Somewhere, the wife lurked.

David wasn't surprised when Brandon snapped at him. "Were you _trying _to show me up?"

The older man grinned innocently. "Would _I_ do that?" Then he dramatically raised a hand to his mouth in mock shock. "Oh dear, have I?"

Brandon wasn't amused. "Knock off the sarcasm, Davey."

"Yes _Boss_."

Both plumbers glared at each other for a drawn out moment before David nodded towards the sink. "You gonna fix that?"

Brandon blinked, then smirked. "No. The _Boss_ never does the work. The _Boss_ tells _you _to do the work. So step on it!"

"Yeah, and you aint the _Boss_, so get to work." David began to dig through the tool belt hung from Brandon's slim hips, since it had been loaned away. His knowing hands pulled out a wrench and a pipe measurer, which he handed over to the younger man, along with his gloves.

"What in the hell?" Brandon gaped. "Are you planning to make _me_ do everything?"

"Yup. That's the plan, Bub."

"But why?" the other whined.

"That's how the high school wants it. You do the work, I watch, and record every little mistake you make. Then the high school decides to chew you up. If they spit you out or swallow…well, that's up to them."

"You're such a prick, you know that, Davey?"

"If you keep callin' me that, I will."

Brandon sighed as he pulled on the gloves. He seemed nervous. _Hell, I never had to go through this crap to graduate._

"Just do what you learned in class," David prompted, sitting down cross-legged on the floor. He leant against the wall, watching Brandon wiggle beneath the sink on his back.

"So…we're going to replace the pipe, right?" Brandon asked.

"Not we, _me._ I don't have the supplies right now…We'll just patch things up and I'll have to pick up where we left off tomorrow."

"Okay…I'll still have to take measurements, right?"

"Yup."

Brandon groaned slightly, hands scrabbling for the wrench. David nudged it over with his boot. "Thanks, sweet cheeks," Brandon snickered from inside the cupboard. Then he yelped as David gave him a none-too-gentle kick on the calf.

"Gotta cut off the water supply…" Brandon reminded himself as he reached amongst the pipes. David couldn't see exactly what he was doing from his vantage point, so he scooted closer. "Is this the water supply valve?"

David took a look. "I think so. We'll know soon enough, eh?"

"Hah, yeah, after I get drenched." Brandon tried to turn it with his hands. "Damn, it's stuck."

David poked the wrench into Brandon's gloved hand. "That's what this is for."

"Really?" Brandon gasped sarcastically. "Wow! I'll make sure to aim for you if this ancient thing breaks."

The ponytailed man smirked. "Can't wait. Just…turn it slowly. And no matter what you do, do _not_ loosen the grip."

"Okay. Hey, why do you think that George guy didn't turn the main water supply off?"

Another voice answered for David. "Because he's a worthless bastard who wouldn't _dare_ get his clothes wet."

Brandon pulled himself out of his hole just enough to peer - along with David - at Victoria who appeared, a nightshirt replacing her robe. It was a rose-tint, with only the sleeves being long. The silk ended above the curve of her hips - short enough so her black lace g-string peeked out when she moved. _And god damn, are those corset straps I see? Okay, what the fuck is up with this? First I get a date with a slut, now I'm stuck in an apartment with a gorgeous woman walking around in her scanties. Hell, if I didn't know better, I'd think she _wanted _us to look._

Victoria was staring right back at David as she stole a wine glass from its hanging place. A bottle was pulled from a wine rack - it's dark, fermented smell wafting through the room as the cork was popped. Wine as red as blood was poured into the flute.

"What I need is a _real_ man; a man who isn't afraid to get dirty." One elegant finger traced around the rim of the glass, collecting a droplet that had hung on the rim. Victoria lifted her hand to her mouth, the dampened finger disappearing between her pink lips. "I need someone who can handle a woman and her needs. Don't you agree?"

At that moment, Brandon yelped and water began to spray out from beneath the sink in a miniature geyser. David cursed, surprised at first. But he quickly took charge, forcing himself beneath the sink with Brandon. It was a tight fit. Cold water drenched his face, plastering David's bangs to his face as both men sputtered. Somehow David managed to plug the pipe up with his bare thumb.

"Other way, turn it the _other_ way, you dork! Didn't you hear me? I said to NOT loosen the grip!" David barked.

Brandon cursed. "I heard you, asshole! Get your hair out my mouth!"

Both men bickered until the valve was secured. Brandon and David were dripping as they emerged from beneath the sink to see Victoria with her hand up to her mouth in a giggle-fit. David swept his wet hair from his face as Brandon fished for black hair in his saliva.

"Would you boys like some towels?"

Throat dry, David could only nod. Victoria swirled her drink a couple times before smirking. Then she turned around, and - with an extra sway of her hips - walked away from the kitchen. "Would you care to help a lady?" She asked David over her shoulder.

For a moment, he could only blink. He knew he probably looked ridiculous as he sat haphazardly cross-legged on a kitchen floor with his damp hair gluing itself to his face. But the male mind cannot deny its instinct - _Do whatever the hot woman says - _and of course he got up to follow Victoria. Brandon gave him a thumbs up and whispered, "Good luck."

David stopped, staring at the Hawaiian. "Good luck with what? Get your mind out the gutter, pervert."

"Looks to me like you got yourself a looker." Brandon winked.

Dumbfounded, David scratched his eyebrow. "Say what?"

"Duuude! She is SO checkin' you out!"

David shrugged. "…That's nice."

Brandon looked as if he wanted to slap David silly. "Aw come on man, go after that fine piece of pie!"

"…"

"You like pie, don't you?"

"…It's okay."

Brandon kept interrogating. "You like women, don't you?"

David nodded.

"So what's wrong with you? I mean, so what if she has a guy -"

"- God knows that won't stop em…" David remembered aloud.

"Exactly! Do you think it's really gonna work out? You saw 'em, goin' at each other's throats!"

"- Which doesn't mean I'm letting her sink her fangs into mine. You think I wanna deal with her crap? Hell no. Now shut up and get to work while I get us some towels."

David found himself wandering down a hallway decorated with classy paintings hung scattered across each wall. It wasn't difficult to find Victoria, who had began to hum a happy tune. She emerged from an open room at the end of the hall, smiling at David when she set eyes on him. She skipped over towards him.

This woman is a bipolar case, David thought, and decided that he wouldn't complain. As long as she didn't treat him like George, David was happy. _But damn, does she walk around clothed like this all the time? If I was George, I'd do anything to keep her content - to keep her walkin' around the home half-naked. That should be enough to keep any man happy. _David was surprised to see that Victoria had put on another item of clothing. He definitely wasn't disappointed to see that she now wore a black pair of shiny stilettos.

Victoria smiled coyly as she leaned against the door frame. One heeled foot rolled from side to side leisurely, standing on toe-tip as she drank her wine. David tried his best to act uninterested, not only mentally, but physically, as well. _Down boy…_

"Which way are the towels?"

Victoria continued to stare at him flirtatiously. "You're standing right besides them."

David blinked, then reached for the nearest doorknob. With a turn, it easily opened to expose a linen closet with stacks of neatly folded towels. "Oh. Thanks."

"Help yourself," she told David. That was the second time David heard that after entering the apartment. _Yeah, but George didn't say you could help yourself to his _wife._ Take a towel and run before it's too late. _David took his own advice. Slightly shaking hands grasped three of the plush pink towels. Freshly washed, they smelled of a floral powder. They were quite big - more than enough to soak up a puddle or two.

Still, Victoria told David, "If you need a couple more, I have some in my personal bathroom that you could use. You can come get them, if you'd like."

What in the heck is she talkin' about? There must be a dozen more towels right here and - …oh.

"Uhh, these will be enough." David muttered. Then he smiled -_ don't wanna seem like an ungrateful bastard- -_ hoping the small display of thankfulness would cloud his eagerness to retreat back to safe territory, where there wasn't a sex starved wife. _Scary, I'd rather be with Brandon._

After the short amount of time it took David to close the linen closet door, he hurried back to the kitchen - with six towels instead of three. _I'd rather not go back there. Don't wanna do something I'd regret._

Brandon looked bored as he inspected his fingernails. His head shot up as he saw David approaching. A small smile stretched across his face as David returned.

"Didn't think you'd be comin' back, Dave," Brandon winked.

A thick rag fell upon Brandon's head, swallowing him like a giant pink jellyfish. David kneeled down to begin mopping up the water with the other towels. "Quiet, you."

Brandon tugged the draped fabric from his head. "Did you have fun?"

"Getting towels?" David asked.

"Getting laid?" Brandon chuckled. This time, a wet towel hit him in the face. He yelped.

The older man glared. "I wasn't that long, idiot."

"Well you certainly took your time, Speedy. What happened?" Brandon couldn't hide his curiosity.

"She practically invited me to her bed. Wait, why in the hell am I telling you this?" David pointed to the sink. "Get back to work."

Brandon sunk beneath the pipes again, muttering something beneath his breath that David didn't quite catch. It was probably better for Brandon's health that he didn't. "I think I'm just going to wrap some of your electricians tape a couple times around the leak area."

"I have putty poxy, if you wanna use it. It sets pretty quickly, though you'll have to mold it into place, then hold it for 5 minutes. That is, if you think you can actually do that."

"Psh, I can. That was just a glitch, before." Brandon said.

"…Sure."

"Just hand me that god damn putty, _Davey_."

David dug the small plastic tub from his utility belt before he handed it over to Brandon's reaching hand. When Brandon was satisfied, he uncapped the lid and began his work. David had chores of his own to do. He retrieved the small notebook from one of his coverall pockets. It was then that he realized he hadn't ever written a recommendation. _Hell, I haven't written anything formal since my own years in high school. This kid could probably do better than me! _Oh well, David figured he'd be better off just writing. He could always worry over it later.

Pen scribbling, David became so involved with his work - which he did so often - that he was numb to the world around him. When he came to, he heard Brandon making strange sounds from where he worked. David was bewildered when he recognized the act.

Is he…? That's a hell of a lot of giggling for plumbing.

"Hey, what in the heck are you doin' under there?" David couldn't help but ask. Then he paused for a moment, before saying, "Wait, I don't think I wanna know."

Brandon couldn't stop his tittering as he poked his head out from beneath the sink. He was grinning wildly at David as he held up a putty sculpture. With three spheres placed atop one another, made from the white poxy, it kind of resembled…

…_Oh you've got to be kidding me. It's a -_

"Lookie!" Brandon chirped gleefully. "It's a snowman!"

Unable to restrain himself, David slapped a hand to his forehead. He groaned, "You're an idiot."

For being an idiot, Brandon sure had good aim - especially considering his position. Lying on his back beneath the sink, Brandon still managed to hit David with a ball of putty. _Pock!_ The ball hit and stuck to the side of David's head. The white was a pungent contrast against David's jet black hair. "Snowball fight!" Brandon shouted, reaching for his remaining ammunition.

Oh my god, war has been declared and that bastard is DEAD MEAT!

"You fucker!" David sputtered, dropping his pen. "You dumb bastard, it's stuck in my hair!"

Brandon's expression of victory slowly faded to all out panic-stricken tangle of eyebrows, eyes, and a mouth. "Ohh shit," he squeaked.

David was nearly concerned to tears as his hands blindly groped for the adhesive glob. "You…!"

Brandon sat up, nearly cracking his head on the pipes, before he shuffled out on hands and knees towards the flailing plumber. "Stop, damn't! You're going to make it worse! Lemme get it…!"

"You'll be getting nothing but my flip knife up you're rectum, you little…!"

Brandon didn't face the wrath of David's scorn. His rectum, although contracted in fear, remained unscathed - maybe because David had been exaggerating out of rage. Or perhaps it was because the knife was currently in the sane hands of Victoria. Brandon was safe. For now.

David sat on a close-lidded toilet, head bent down in despair, as was the rest of his body. His arms hung loosely between his splayed long legs. Brandon, far from David's reach, watched as Victoria stood towering over the defeated plumber. Each _snip snip_ of scissors made Brandon wince in pain - not because they were aimed at him, but because they were a prelude to his demise. Worried about his own fate, David sat whimpering as he, too, heard the snip snipping.

"Oh quit it, you baby," Victoria teased. "I'm only cutting a little bit off."

"It's like a hail storm of hair!" David cried.

"I'm just taking off enough to get the job done," Victoria assured. "Don't worry about it, Dave. When your hair is all brushed out and retied, you won't see a difference. Promise."

Brandon was hopeful - maybe his hyde was safe after all! There was a moment of doubt as David stood up and scrutinized Victoria's work in the mirror.

"See?" Brandon smiled. "Doesn't even show!"

David shot him one of the cruelest, most scornful glares he had ever endured. "But I still _know_," the older man snapped. Brandon's grin faded. The man was one with his hair. David murmured a thanks to Victoria, then stalked out of the bathroom.

Victoria gave Brandon a look of pity, seeing that the young man was afraid to follow. "I don't blame him for being pissy. He's has very lovely hair."

Brandon shrugged it off, thinking that it figured the woman would side with David. He walked from the bathroom. Eventually Brandon caught up with the brooding man, who had begun scratching wildly in his notes.

"I'm sorry, man. Will you forgive me?"

David's answer didn't faze Brandon. "No."

Brandon frowned - he didn't like being the focus of someone's hate. "Aw come on, you can't hold a grudge forever."

"Watch me." David growled stubbornly. The man couldn't be budged with a crowbar. He continued to tear through the pages with the harsh pressing of the pen tip to paper.

Brandon slinked past David, imagining the many uses of a ball-point as a weapon. He was sure he didn't want to find out - definitely not in a personal way. Yet he still had to ask… "Dave…do you want me to finish poxying the pipe?"

"Hell no." David grunted.

"Well…if it makes you feel any better, I think your hair is very pretty."

Brandon was surprised to see one corner of David's mouth curl unintentionally. The young man was pleased. It didn't look like David was going to kill him, after all.

"Have I ever told you how phat and sassy you are?" Brandon pushed insistently, hoping to make the man laugh.

David rolled his eyes slightly. "Yes, and don't push your luck. Stop kissin' ass and make sure you got everything done with the sink."

"But I love kissing your ass," Brandon teased. Hell, he didn't care how David interpreted that. David simply grunted. Okay, maybe a little bit of his anger still lingered, and Brandon wasn't going to stand for it.

"Time to take desperate measures," the young man whispered to himself. He didn't think David had heard, but apparently he had, because the plumber looked up. Once the site registered in David's mind, his jaw began to drop.

"What are you doing?" he asked, seeing Brandon with a ball of putty in his gloved hand.

I thought that idiot learned his lesson!

Brandon smiled. "I gotta live the full experience of a plumber. So…here goes!"

Brandon slapped his hand down.

===

"Men!" Victoria groaned. "Don't you ever learn?"

Brandon smiled, attempting to look up into her face. "Nope," he said simply.

Lacquered fingered hands pushed his head back into its previous position. "Don't move, or it'll come out uneven," the woman warned, as she continued to cut.

"I don't think his entire _head_ is even," David muttered from his side of the room, where he sat leaned against the wall with his broad arms crossed against his chest. _I might not be the one beneath the scissors, but I'm still self conscious._

"Hey!" Brandon said, trying to sound mad. He failed miserably and began to laugh afterwards. "At least we're even now."

"…" David watched silver flash and dark hair fall. He may have seemed stoic but on the inside he was smiling. _That little pest wormed a soft spot in me, _David admitted - but only to himself. Brandon still reminded David of himself as adolescent - albeit the angel side to his demon. But…that was okay. _Yup, that kid's all right…_

"You think you can take care of him?" David suddenly asked Victoria.

"She can _definitely_ take care of me, Dave." Brandon winked from his place on the toilet.

Victoria rolled her eyes. _Hell, a lot of people do that around Brandon, don't they?_

"Yeah, I'll manage," she said, almost sounding convincing.

"If he misbehaves, just use the scissors. But don't cut too much off - he has to have a brain in there _somewhere._" David joked. If David had turned around a second sooner, he would have missed the middle finger Brandon waved at him. On his way out, David made sure to return the gesture. Then he walked back to the kitchen. When Brandon eventually waddled in to join him, David was writing again.

Brandon gulped nervously, trying to wear a shaky smile. "Geez, I guess you're writing a bunch of dirt about me, huh?"

David was smirking inwardly. "Sure am. Wanna see?"

Brandon snatched the papers from his hands. "Do you really have to ask?" Then he squinted at the paper. "Oh my god, a man with legible hand writing!"

"Just read it."

"…I'm afraid."

David grabbed the papers back. "Then I will, damn't. God, you're a sophomore, not some baby," the older man said, before he began to read, laughing inwardly at Brandon's expression as it melted from nervous to all-out fearful.

Ohh, you're so mean, Dave.

David stood, arms crossed with the papers in hand after he had finished reading. He could barely compress the hard smile he felt inside as Brandon ran a shaky hand through his newly trimmed hair. "Do you really feel that way? I mean…god, 'I've seen soap scum with more coordination than this kid'?" Now Brandon just looked mad. "And do you really think I couldn't tell a toilet brush from a block of margarine?!"

The older man shrugged. "What other quotes did ya like? How about 'Brandon really has no clue what to do. Tell me, was he studying in class, or sleeping?', or maybe 'I wouldn't hire this kid to water my begonias' is more your style?"

"First of all," Brandon frowned, placing his hand boldly. "What in the hell are begonias?"

"They're a type of plant. Duh."

Brandon took a jab. "Ah, so you're one of those men who watch Martha Stewart every morning?"

"Gotta learn how to make Rosettes somehow." David glared back at the young man. "Of course, you don't know what _those_ are either, do ya?"

For once, Brandon was rendered speechless. It didn't last long, because Brandon's frustration began to build, and David was in the midst of an attack.

"God damn't Dave, why do you have to be such a dick? Here I've been, trying my best to cheer your humorless ass up, and all you do is act all pissy! You'd think most people would lighten up after an hour or so - at the most - but all you've done is put me down. Sure I made a mistake and fucked up your hair, but you don't have to go psycho bitch on me about it! Let me tell you one thing mister -"

David threw his hands up, trying to calm the boy. "Hey, calm down!"

Brandon was still fuming. "No, listen here you asshole -"

"- Brandon. -"

"You're such a sanctimonious little -"

" - Brandon!" David barked, stomping one boot to the tile floor. The sound jerked Brandon from his heat, if only for a moment. For being as worked up as he was, Brandon's anger quickly dissipated as David began to laugh. Then it grew again.

"How can you laugh at me?!" he snarled as diabolically as he could muster.

David had to clutch his stomach to calm himself. "I'll tell ya how. All this was a prank. Lighten up!"

Brandon blinked once, twice before he raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I was just messing with you," David gasped, laughing again. "I didn't think you'd go ballistic on me like that!"

Brandon slumped as his tensed, alert muscles released at David's words. "You serious? About all that crap?"

"About messing with you, yes." The plumber smiled.

There was a moment of silence before Brandon's expression turned from contemplation to a glare. "How could you laugh at me like that?"

David shrugged. "Couldn't help it, I guess. I am a jerk, after all. You said it yourself."

"Sorry," Brandon apologized.

"I am too," David said. He gave one glance at the papers in his hand, before he proceeded to tear the stack into bunches of white scrap.

Brandon looked around the room. "So, what next, Dave? Are we done here?"

David thinks for a moment, before tossing all but one of the larger paper scraps away. "Almost. I gotta leave a note for George."

"Okay…I'll clean up the towels, then pack up to go."

"Sounds good."

David left the note short and simple: Needed more supplies, will return tomorrow to finish the job. That, along with his home phone number would have to be enough until David could dig up the same size of pipes to complete the task. Soon enough, Brandon had mopped up the rest of the water and stood to watch as David set the note on the table.

As the two plumbers walked out to the truck, David thought of something. "…You know, your mom said I could slap some sense into you if you gave me any lip."

Brandon looked at him, with a small curl on his lips. "Well I didn't give you any _lip, _but I did give your ass a verbal kicking. Besides, _you're_ the one who's going to get slapped once my mom sees what you've done to my hair."

"Psh, what _I_ did?" David chuckled. "You sacrificed it yourself, Bub."

"Only because I like you so much," Brandon said with a flutter of his eyelashes.

"Hah."

Brandon raised an eyebrow at David, as if he expected some smart-ass comeback from the older man. Finally, Brandon prompted, "Well?"

"…?"

"Don't tell me you've gone silent again!" He threw his hands up in disbelief.

"…"

"Gah!"

David finally chuckled. "You're so easy to mess with."

"And you're so hard to work with," the Hawaiian shot back.

"It wasn't my choice to get an apprentice."

Brandon laughed. "And I bet you thought it'd kill you."

"Yup," David answered truthfully.

"You could have gotten someone worse than me, ya know."

Ugh, then I would definitely be dead by now, David thought. "I guess."

Brandon smiled. "So you don't hate me?"

"…I kinda like you, kid," he admitted.

Brandon's face cracked into an all out beam, as he threw his arms wide open. When he stepped forward, David leapt back. "I said _kinda_," David growled. "Just…don't touch me."

"That's the Davey attitude we all know and love," Brandon said with a thumbs up.

"…Right."

"…"

"…"

After a beat, they both began to laugh.

===

Ms. Victor didn't find the situation quite as amusing.

"What," she shrieked, "did you do to your hair?!"

Brandon attempted to hide behind David, but the plumber knew better than to get between an insane mother and her partially sane child. "You're on your own," he whispered into Brandon's ear before he made an attempt to escape. Ms. Victor's voice stopped David in his track as effectively as if a noose had been thrown around his neck.

"You're not going anywhere!"

David cringed. "Damn…"

"And watch your language, Mister! Just because you're a plumber doesn't give you an excuse to influence my baby boy!"

Standing to attention, David gulped. "Yes Ma'am."

"What were you boys up to, anyway? Were you fixing a toilet in a hair salon, for Christ's sake?!"

That seemed like a rhetorical question to David. All the better - he wasn't quite sure what to say. _Oh no, Ms. Victor, we were trapped in an apartment with a dysfunctional married couple. It wasn't too bad, 'cause the husband left us alone - two males with one half naked, phat and sassy lady. Oh, and was Brandon allowed to use Playdough as a child? 'Cause he was throwing it like a money with shit, and said half naked woman gave us a makeover! Yeah, so we didn't get much work done. Give us another chance, pretty please?_

David knew from experience that it was safer to simply say nothing at all to an angered woman. Instead, he spoke to Brandon. "I'll have to mail your school the recommendation."

"Didn't ya get it done today?"

"Nope. We got a little side-tracked, remember?"

Ms. Victor blinked, eyelids snapping at the two males. "I'm still here, you know!"

Brandon continued to look at David, feeding off the anger of his mother with teenage rebellion. "Oh yeah," he chuckled. "I guess we did. I think we have a tendency to do that, don't we?"

"Yeah," David sighed. "If we worked together every day, we'd never get anything done."

If there was one thing women like Ms. Victor despised, it was being overlooked. "You two can't ignore me forever!" she snarled.

Brandon smirked. "Did you hear somethin'?"

"The Wicked Witch of the West?" David winked as the women besides them flushed red in the face.

"Eh, that's pretty close," Brandon laughed. He leaned forward towards David, a hand covering one side of his mouth - a makeshift privacy wall. "It's even worse, Dave. It's my _Mother!_"

"Oh you little…!" Ms. Victor cried, raising one hand to give her son a bop on the head. It seemed as though she wanted to do the same to David, who had burst out in a fit of laughter. Both men yelped and dodged, running separate directions - Brandon to his house, David to his truck. Gloved hands shoved the key into the ignition and the vehicle roared to life. Just then, David realized Brandon still had his supplies.

Brandon had remembered, too. "Wait!" the young man shouted, running outside from his front door, arms full of the tools, belt, and coveralls. Ms. Victor, still foaming at the mouth, lunged to grab her son by the shirt, but her age was no match to Brandon's youthful agility. The Hawaiian let out a squeak before he began to run faster. By the time he reached David's truck to toss the items inside, he was panting.

Like always, Brandon remained good-humored. "See ya, you phat and sassy man, you."

David smiled. "Good luck with high school - and your mother."

"Yeah, if you see any news reports about the Sophomore found mutilated in his yard, think of me," Brandon joked.

"Will do," David said, watching as Brandon's mother pinched her sons ear. As the boy - small compared to his mothers girth - was dragged away, Brandon waved. David pulled away from the house.

===

"Headed home at last," David sighed, leaning his left arm on the unrolled car window sill. "Today is finally over. I can lay back and do absolutely nothin'."

Those words rolled sweetly on his tongue and were almost as soothing as the wind in his hair. Summer air whipped the hanging bangs from David's face in a light tickle. The small caresses of each silk strand were comforting while the insistent touch urged him to relax. _Relax…that's such a nice and inviting word. I'll do exactly that when I get home,_ David promised himself, closing his eyes sleepily in his comfort.

They didn't stay closed for long, just as David could never be comfortable for more than ten minutes at the most, it seemed. David's long bangs slowed their movement to graze slowly across his forehead. _That's odd, _he thought, frowning slightly. _Either the wind had suddenly slowed, or…_

"What the _fuck?_" David cried, slamming one fist against the dashboard. The speedometer's gauge began to drop from 60 mile per hour down to 50, 40, and continued its rapid decent after 30. Trees began to slow to a crawl through the truck windows as David fought with the engine. It sputtered and wheezed almost as loudly as David cursed. He jerked the wheel to steer towards the side of the street before the wheels dwindled completely to a stop, before he tried the engine again.

David King was a man doomed with bad luck.

"Don't you do this to me!" he said, giving his best efforts to threaten truck, yet it came out more as a pathetic plead than the demonic snarl he had hoped for. The truck was having none of it. "Come _on_, I'm not a mechanic! Don't you dare die on me!"

If the truck hadn't really died, it was doing quite the convincing impression. It's act was enough to send David stomping down the street, cursing the whole way. _I swear, everything, _everything_ is intent on ruining my day - even my god damn pick-up! What's a guy gotta do to go home and sleep around here? Does someone expect me to give them my soul?!_

First, he'd have to search for a pay phone. Second, he'd have to search for loose change. Third, he'd have to find the nearest towing service. And finally, even if it was the last thing he'd do, David swore he'd return to the car with a gun.

Scratch that, make it a scud missile, because that truck is goin' down!


	9. Not Quite a Penny for Your Thoughts

Title: A Day in the Life of David King

Author: 

Rating: PG-13 for language that everyones heard (in English, at least)

Notes: ……………….AHHH about time, right? It's been longer than my memory span since I last updated this story oo; I had planned to work on it all summer…but some lady cough kidnapped me, took me hostage, and forced me to RP with her.

…or maybe she was the victim, mwahah.

LaVixen, don't kill me for sharing too soon. I just couldn't keep my patience,

I don't know if it's any good because it's been so long. But I tried, and I hope you enjoy, as well as remember. XD

Review and tell me! It keeps me around longer – perhaps long enough to put an end to this story I've had so much fun with.

----

It was going to be an annoying day.

The sun was starting to set. David could see it past his shoulder, his smoky shadow beginning to stretch behind him, the direct sun's rays slapping his face from the front.

Below each rise of dusty, dirty brown boots, wispy shapes grew when a sole was raised, disappearing when it came down as he walked. Gravel that had found its way on the street crunched beneath his weight - one of the few sounds above the fluttering wings as birds, alarmed, lifted themselves from the trees he passed. In fright, they flew from their nests and perches where they would surely return shy of the coming night.

Surely.

The leaves seemed to rain down, drained of green to become rusty reds, outrageous oranges and yearly yellow, waving their hello to the plumber who held his hands pushed deep into dirty colored pockets of his coveralls. Though they weren't black, they seemed to catch the heat from the sun and hold it close to him, causing sweat to form and stick the tight white undershirt beneath the beige to his copper skin. David didn't doubt that if his hair was down, as deep and rich as it was, that the thick strands would stick to the back of his neck with the salty dampness.

Fall had made its call, coming slowly but surely, the summer determined to stay despite the artistic scenery of autumn. It seemed all the same to David. He wasn't personally waiting for winter. As a plumber, David somewhat detested it. During snow seasons and the vice of ice, pipes cracked. His paycheck grew. His patience did not.

The streets were swept with leaves. In a yard, children were creating a hill of them, their mothers leaning from an open window sill to watch and smile as, one after another, small bodies attacked. With a burst of orange, yellow, and raving reds, tufts of color leapt over four-foot high held heads. Laughter erupted in the autumn air. At least someone was enjoying themselves.

David, on the other hand.... He was far too busy even when he was not doing business - thanks to his loyal...and very lifeless truck. He found himself walking faster, wondering what he was going to do and why that damn truck had decided to die that day.

_Well, it was bound to happen _someday.

David was not a mechanic...at least when focused on his Ford. It was old, had run like gold up until twenty minutes ago. Hell, its engine was probably growing mold. The most he knew what to do on the red slab of metal alloy on wheels was kick it. And check the dipstick.

...It never failed to amuse him how some things stuck to his mind like glue. Dipstick. Hah.

_Yeah, you're just a genius...dip _shit.

He was a plumber. He knew more about toilets and PVC, polyvinyl chloride pipes than he did parts of a truck. He knew it had a trunk...and well...wheels. Tires. So he knew two things! AHAH! And they rolled, just like he did with the roll he was on...

...Or not.

_Fucking truck!_

He might have not been complaining if his dusty brown boots weren't so damn worn to death. David wondered when the soles that had begun to break between some stitches would drop from his feet and expose his socks covered in pecking chickens.

_That_ was certainly a secret not known by most about David King. He collected socks.... Had a kind of...well, whatever it was wasn't a kink. It was possible that he could file it away near his nose fetish folder.

Wait, what was he, a secretary? He was a plumber. He'd probably stuff it down a pipe. Would it be like the ones the Raccoon City bank had? Put in the pill, watch as it was sucked up through the tube...

_That_ wasn't much like a plumber either. He'd flush it down a toilet, and if it became clogged, he could use a standard plunger to try and loosen it up. Possibly, he could pour a chemical agent that could--

David sighed at a stop sign, waiting for the electric emerald hand to wave him across. It really was a wonder how he could have changed so much since the big city. Now, in Raccoon, he was a law abider. Laid low. Why?

Well...it wasn't because of one certain, ass grabbing, groping cop.

Red turned to green in a flash as the few cars heading in the same direction followed David when he continued to roam. Leaves crunched beneath brown boots that left colorful crumbs behind.

It was infinitely better than trails of blood.

The plumber shook himself from memories that were difficult to forget at certain times, chasing him like his own onyx shadow. During others, David could convince himself that he'd become a better man. Sure, he still had his folding knife in his tool belt, kept there in a certain religious fashion but it had uses other than an attacking tool or defensive device...

_Yeah, like sticking a pig that puts his hands in all the wrong places._

A voice smoother than the usual gravelly groan pointed out sarcastically, _not in _all_ places._

David placed one hand in the free hanging hair of his ponytail and pulled perhaps too tight, the twinge of discomfort drawing him from his mind that only ran in all the wrong directions on its own. David only knew his own when he saw the sign, pointing towards the subway station not twenty feet away. Soon, it was halved to ten, and then to four before his foot landed on the step only beginning the gradual gray drop downwards.

Fluorescent lights flickered left and right, reflecting dully against cement walls covered in half-hanging posters that were, like the tape holding them up, past their prime. Two, perhaps three, seemed fresh. Others had fallen free to splay across the ground. David simply stepped over the big-breasted, bikini-wearing blond with teeth that glowed with radioactive radiance.

Yeah, Raccoon was trashy. It smelled funny too. A rat ran from beneath David's one lifted foot, causing him to stumble slightly with a sharp curse in his first tongue - Italian.

Hell, he hated humans. Few knew one of his sweet spots was for animals.

_And maybe a certain cop, too._

But certainly not the blue-capped, glowing vibrant-haired African American across from him, fifteen feet away or so, standing besides the ticket booth.

If David remembered correctly, the man's name was Jim. Hell, how could he forget him? The plumber had run across the subway ticket seller at the bar a couple of times, outside of his small boxed cage the hyper-talkative man belonged in with an inch of glass separating him from the sane world, or not so sane...

On his favored stool, David had seen that blonde head bob his way - more like a pigeon than a person - and had not been delighted one bit when it wasn't Cindy. No, at least all she did was smile and giggle. Jim Chapman grinned and _never shut up._

Even when he sat at a barrel by the door did David hear the ebony worker yap off his yellow head. But when said subway worker had been scared from his spot by some unusual looking biker buffs...well, it became up, close and personal for the plumber.

David hasn't bothered to put his beer down. Nope, he used it to hide from that piss-colored head of hair. Maybe if he had a couple more _pitchers_ of Jagermeister, he could have stood the over-talkative twenty-year old. Unfortunately, he hadn't been close to meeting fairies beneath his bar stool which he sat at, much like a fossil, hunched over himself protectively at first sign of another's presence.

In the time it took Jim to sit down next to him, he'd already spewed thirty sentences worth of words, or so it seemed.

"I can't believe those fuckas, struttin' in here like they own the fuckin' city. What the fuck man? That one's wearin' a red bandana. I bet he's for a brain like a mashed banana, but look at that lady. Hot damn, she is FINE!"

Obliviously Jim was easily distracted by a C-cup or D-cup set of breasts. David, on the other hand, didn't care. And apparently, the black man had an ego large enough for the both of them. Was he just confident as hell or just crazy? Half-and-half? Who knew?

Will must have, as David saw the look he was given from the glass-drying bartender behind the wooden table separating them in a rough square shape. It was as if brown said, 'You'd better have another,' as soon as Jim announced, "I'm gonna get me some of that ass!"

At the time David had been down right tempted to woo the woman just to see Jim shit himself with rage and make his brown face boiling red. But he wasn't even attracted - not so much as amused with the idea and his own imagination. All he wanted was some alcohol.

David ignored Jim, trying to be oblivious to whatever the black man was doing. Most likely, it was something he didn't care to know about. In the end, he was forced to when Will was reaching to him in hopes of refilling David's drink, when suddenly, fingers slapped and spread a newspaper into the path. Out came the pencil in the cramped space. David saw no reason for one man to take up three seats worth of the room all around them.

Six seconds later, David was lifting his half-empty glass of everclear, telling himself to stop. Or did he really want to spend the next morning over the toilet? Hell, David figured it was his destiny and that he would, anyway. Even if one of the two didn't involve his guts swimming around in a porcelain pool.

David considered punching the mans little, dim lights out when Jim began to barrage him with questions, pencil balanced against his pink, lower lip. Like hell he knew what an eight-letter word for entertainment was. Knockout worked well for David. He wondered if the other man would understand.

Then again, David knew that if he spoke or said anything, even gave the ebony grinning subway worker an even subtle section of conversation or even the hope to have one with him, it would bring doom to them both.

No, David would rather just punch him, put a punctuation to the never ending string of stupid, outward spoken thoughts that failed to fill Jim's friendly, but so _annoying_ attention.

Except...when David bought his ticket and got on what he _hoped_ was the right train, Jim was the one punching _him_.

"Hey brutha, haven't seen you at the bar for a while. You wanna hang sometime?"

David's deadly, silent silver stare screamed, No.

Uh-ho...Did Jim actually think they were anything more than acquaintances? David hoped to hell he didn't.

_I knew I should have let him get his little scrawny ass kicked to death. Then I wouldn't have to deal with him._

The figurative finger hit the rewind button once again to begin back in the bar, when David had his two middle digits raised to the employee after a half-an-hour spree of social anxiety. Most of it was easily ignored, but when the back man had called him a _Mexican..._

"I thought you bruthas drank tequilas and margaritas in Mexico."

David sure felt like he had. Tequila had a way of hitting the plumbers nerves in all the possible wrong ways, all aimed at pissing him off. No, the piss-haired human had to do it instead. Human? Hah! David didn't remember anything about their anatomy being fifty- percent mouth.

David had less than ten, perhaps lower than five percent. But he used twenty percent of each hand to raise both middle fingers after setting his drink down from said small mouth.

That was when Jim held up both palms of defeat towards David before moving after that not-so-small womanly figure walking her way past them to slow and stand by the bar. To David, it was obvious that she was waiting for someone. Certainly not the young, yellow-haired man strutting his way over like a cock.

…_tail wiener, hah._

Apparently, the big-breasted blonde with more hair spray than actual hair had a boyfriend whom had to fend off the confident, arrogant, feisty black man after he returned only a second later from the bathroom.

And apparently, said boyfriend did _not_ want to share.

About as large as a boulder, with more muscles between broad shoulders than a brain in his skull, the six-foot something man with thick sausage fingers and a lazy eyelid didn't wait to ask questions or hear a word from his lady. Compared to the half-like human, Jim was as measly as a quail, who could wail in a similar way to that of a woman when suddenly – and by surprise, as all he had seen in awe was breasts as big as his head – he was shoved.

David didn't think anything of it when he attacked, black subway worker was suddenly bent back against a neighboring stool, appearing as malleable a wet noodle. It was surprising that the ebony man hadn't made any of his own stool while wearing an expression of having shit himself.

Attached to the bar, the stool barely budged beneath a body as Jim slammed into it, nearly ending up splayed and laid back on the polished wood. Where was Will, anyway? No where around to refill David's third finished drink, as he patiently waited for his forth, wondering why he didn't just ask for a pitcher instead of individual glasses.

All around him, Jim was smacked around like he'd been rolled into a boneless ball to be placed in a pinball machine. Ping ping, surely he was seeing stars and flashing lights with each burley shove of huge hands. Again, David thought nothing of it, numb to everything but his everclear…until a body, thrown against him, spilled his half-full, half-empty drink.

David King would have gone for the kill if it had been tequila.

He'd made short work of the large man. Quite simply, he lifted himself into the standing position and rolled his wrist, just once. And as easily, gave the back of that black shirt a twist, along with a tug to capture that big lug closer, disgusted by the dirty, dank back of a neck beaded with sulfuric sweat. David had effectively ceased the chase for blood, distracting the danger to Jim, feeling fury turn to aim at him. And just like that, after the man spun, David ended the fun.

A jab to the face, that right fist returned to David's pocket as casually, he dropped a couple of bills onto the bar top as behind him, that thick, brick of a body dropped like a rock. Then he'd quietly stepped over the dead-to-the-world man towards the door of the bar, not too far away. At least, not to make his escape alone before a set of sneakers hurried after him.

Like a loyal lab, Jim had followed the antisocial plumber past the many laughing, male faces and the interested attentions, as well as intentions of the women without David having any of his own for anything but going home. Alone. Again.

If David had remembered the definition for that important word, it was something like alone…an adjective, meaning something along the lines of lacking accompaniment or companionship; isolated, solitary.

In his own words, the plumber had summed it up in too for the subway worker, starting towards his red Ford truck sitting slumped to one side of the street.

Snarling, he'd snapped, "Fuck off."

Well…it had worked.

But now, standing before the subway worker with forever smiling eyes that looked so much like a mug brimmed with dark coffee, David doubted he could grunt much more from the feel of his fingers fumbling with his old wallet before handing over the money to get his ticket.

Jim took the initiative to start a single-sided conversation for the second time.

"Yo! How you doin' plumbah man? You punch some punks shit pool out of their nostrils lately? Eh?"

David simply turned his back to the ebony man, not knowing what direction he needed to go, but not quite caring, so long as it wasn't standing there, or in earshot to listen to Jim, who yelled behind him.

All the tunnels looked the same, as did the businessmen and women who walked into, and as though they could shove_ through_ his body, making David's blood boil. But he held on, reasoning with himself. Hell, he'd been raised in New York, which Raccoon was nothing like. Obviously.

Obliviously, David had passed his place twice, though there was no expressing on his face showing the exhaustion he felt. The ghost of the Ford was going for his guts with a javelin, jousting to find the right way to annoying him as he leaned against a colorless washed concrete wall. Why was waiting so stressful for him?

…Well, David bet a great deal of it had something to do with Jim. Christ, was the man a stalker, chasing him?

David sighed in relief when he stopped to check some red heads ticket, patrolling like a policeman who was less pig and more chicken than man. The plumber simply stayed in his place, as though he could trick himself into being invisible, though only the blind missed the stoic face chiseled to near perfection, naked to the cold air that caressed copper. It was always so cold.

How many tickets had Jim sold? Hopefully enough to forget him, when all either of them could do was swim in the rather generous grouping of people waiting not-so-patiently for their trip that would take the anxious men and women across town and to places they'd much rather be.

Still, David took his time to see the mother gathering her four children close besides a man who struck a match and lit his cigarette. Half of him was horrified that he'd see a drunken cop stumbling around, fumbling for some unsuspecting ass. Instead, he saw two security guards that David desperately hoped kept their hands to themselves like Kevin should have.

…_You know, depending on a person's interpretation that could be even more disgusting._

Especially when said security guards were both tall and fat…or short and fat. At least both were familiar. The white man was Bob and the black, Mark. It made David almost as ill as one of the two men looked as he hurriedly shook the image that tried to shove its way into his mind and glove all of his attention towards it before he willed it away. Then he killed it with a figurative fork.

It looked like Bob was going to make his mark by spilling his guts all over. He appeared to be sick, and much paler than usual, almost pathetically waddling around as though he was beneath his own weight. David could almost hear his stomach sloshing. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who needed to get home, and fast.

Public transportation could have been quicker if they were all to sit on the back of a snail shell and hit the road on it.

The plumber was more than pleased when the train finally arrived so many minutes after watching that seemingly sharking man move closer and closer, with only a few bodies between him and the squeaky sneaker shoes Jim wore. People began to pour inside the hollow silver snake. David followed to hide, pushing past people to lean against the side nearest from the door with both bare copper arms woven together, resting against his white and dirty beige colored clothes.

Silver closed behind onyx bangs as though he was trying to sleep. Really, all David did was sweep aside the attention people gave him, either by passing glance or from those who were friendly. There was always someone willing to invade someone's private space that, for David, had a twenty-foot radius on a good day. Which was not today.

David was wrong, though not about the last ten or so hours. No, he knew too well that there had been…well…like a hard drop to his ass.

_And a set of squeezing hands._

He shook himself and snorted silently, continuing on with the previous train of thought without the interruption that lacked any intention. Yeah, the day had been bad. He hadn't known then, nor had anyone, how worse it was going to get. It wasn't that he thought it would renew itself anytime soon.

No, he was simply wrong about the face that stared at him from the floor when he let his eyes open, just a sliver.

Human? It had a head. But it was silver, almost matching his eyes that opened just slightly. Man turned moth, David couldn't deny that he wasn't attracted to shiny objects, nor ones with worth like the coin had. But just how much?

Unknown to David, it was more to Jim than it was to him.

Between gloved forefinger and thumb, David gripped it, spun to see both sides. He didn't recognize the face, or the fact that it was almost perfectly polished save for a smudge of dirt from being dropped on the floor.

David didn't hear the door open at the front of the car, nor did he care until suddenly, that yellow-hair was before him, yanking bronze arms away from his study of the coin, forcing him to take in a very happy young man.

...Until Jim saw what was held in his hand.

"Hey man!" Jim was nearly yelling at him. But for what? Was he angry or anxious? David just felt annoyed. "You found my coin!"

The man with the deeper voice between the two of them, also easily the tallest said, "Finders keepers."

Really, David didn't care about a damn coin. And really, he disliked fighting with someone as weak as a squid. Finally, he really just liked seeing that face as it turned slightly red after a long day at work. He just waited for steam to spout from the sides of Jim's head.

David smirked slowly, shaking brown hands off of his bronze arms before rolling his eyes rather arrogantly. The ebony man only eight inches away seemed to be angered by the display, driving his hands against David's arm again so he could snatch for the coin with his fingers.

The plumber had the moment to notice that the mans cuticles were over grown before he dodged it, even though the other male had him backed up against the wall of the subway train. Or did he? Hell no, David did it himself. He could break through the thin man if he had to.

So David was irritated with Jim nearing the point to being irate because of him, only backing up to try for the silver again that glittered just slightly before being covered in brown suede grip.

The plumber pushed the subway worker back enough to sneer. "Say please."

Okay, so the subway worker had a definition of his own. Instead of please, he said something that wasn't as short.

"Give me the fucking coin!"

What made the shorter man madder? The stoic expression on that face, or the rebellion that made that hand hold Jim's lucky coin just out of reach as he hopped like some paper trained animal towards a treat?

As though they shared the same train of thought (which seemed ironic to think of it as such, since they traveled a subway), the plumber asked the pouting one of the two, "What did you do to earn it?"

Jim was tempted to tell him, "I'm gonna beat your punk bitch ass and get it back." Because he wanted to live a little longer and get some ass of his own, he wisely kept his wide mouth shut.

He knew that if he _did_ say it, that David, being the sarcastic bastard he was, would reply with something like "You have an ass, can't you see? Your head is up it."

Instead, he said, "I got a plumbah brutha laid."

Lord knew, Jim believed, David direly needed it. At any other time, David might have agreed. But now, with one bent brow and the other brought down to be cocked, silver locked on coffee brown before both smoothed, slightly amused. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

Jim snorted at David before snarling as jealousy began to snap its jaws at his heels again. "You beat up that bitches boyfriend and had her fine ass!"

_...I did?_

Blinking, David felt perfectly puzzled. Then he remembered that Jim wasn't the sharpest crayon in the box, nor the brightest. In fact, he wasn't just dull. He was snapped in half...or would be, if the man with the yellow hair continued to use his mouth to yap much like an annoying Chihuahua.

When David opened his own mouth to say something sarcastic or to scoff, Jim cut him off, using as much manners as a cod. "You're a fuckin' thief, you know that?! Yeah, I bet you do! First you steal my chance with a bitchin' fine chick, then you take my coin! That's passing the line, you--"

David's voice wasn't powerful. For as deep and scratchy as it was, it seemed surprisingly soft, being more eroded than smooth like a shoreline. "What fucking ever, you had as much of a chance as I did with her!"

Not that he'd ever wanted one. And was that the worst ever insult he'd ever given himself? David believed that it was, after he thought about it a millisecond later instead of sooner.

Meanwhile, the shorter man still reached for the coin that was flashing his near red expression, showing his reflection to a third of the train. Some people snickered while others just watch or ignored them completely - a skill that David wished he had while he was around Jim. He could hear the rustling of clothes more than feel the strength of the mans hands that slapped at him.

In fact, all he felt was...well...like he was a big bully teasing a little kid with his lost lunch money. It was pathetic, since the plumber had done things so much more mature and painful for others in his past.

Within the boundaries of his head, a single word was whispered: _Murderer_.

As though Jim now shared his same thought, he cried in his frustration, "Someone call the fucking cops!"

The plumber was soon aware that he wasn't the tallest or the smallest on the playground. Two other people approached the hopping Jim and him, pushing between bronze and black bodies, one that seemed weary with panic.

_Possessive little prick._

One of the newcomers - who wasn't so new, after all, considering his age - looked worse than Jim. Besides him, a man not much younger yanked the yellow-haired boy back with a yelp for help before breathing out in exasperation, "What's your problem, Jim?"

Silver saw a gray coat, white hair, and very, very white skin. Was it Kevin? ...Well, maybe it could have been, if trgthey suddenly stood forty years in the future.

David felt devoured by the second shadow which was so big, like the mans body that stood tall like a soldier though the subway train rocked slightly from side to side on the tracks as it sped through the darkness underground. The hand that snatched the back of Jim's jacket and latched like a lock was just as steady as apparently, the "black bruthas" stuck together. Literally.

Force had to be used to keep those fingers from fighting for the coin that David still clutched. The plumber was slightly touched at the affection Jim showed...for an inanimate object.

_Well, it does have a face you can love._

A voice so much deeper than David's ask the more mature and collected man, instead of the one trying to collect his coin. "What's the problem, plumbah?"

African American, indeed. Mark wasn't just the color of milk chocolate. He was dark.

Thank god Bob didn't speak the same street jargon as Jim or Mark. Would that have made him white?

…_I'd rather not think of any of them as edible, thanks._

Sometimes, David disgusted himself.

_Guh!_

Bob looked as ill, if not worse that David suddenly felt. He looked like hell on a half shell. Surely he'd gurgle and spill his gut if he tried to talk. David didn't care to discover if he was right or not, shifting a boot further away. Just in case.

Jim was stabbing a finger at David the second his attention returned. Silver eyes rolled at the ebony man who couldn't understand a flea from a flower.

"This guy is a fuckin' thief, brutha! Call the cops!"

David had the second to think, _NO!_ and nearly did so. Instead he scoffed quietly, glancing at the metallic, quaking ground as the tallest man of the four looked at him for an answer.

He'd seen Mark too, many times at the bar. Hell, who hadn't? He practically ate his evening meal there most, if not every night.

_And you know that how, hmm?_

David raised his eyes again, rolling them once more towards Jim before he smirked slightly. "He's got an obsession with money, obviously."

Mark handed Jim the coin, looking at the passive plumber without even narrowing his eyes. Then he turned to Jim again, motioning with an arm towards him. "This boy wouldn't hurt a butterfly."

David almost had to laugh as he thought, _If only they knew…_

He brushed aside onyx bangs, letting them fall forward to hide nearly half of his face, feeling the loose silky strands brush the sides of his nose before he leaned his head back again against the wall behind him. He looked at both black men like he was bored. And he was, if not mildly amused by the twenty-something year old man who acted more like a boy who'd been hit with a basketball between his legs. David didn't remember being the one to have aimed it. At least not purposely.

Mark watched Jim as if waiting for the slim man to continue the attack before he released thin arm from his huge hand, not even realizing that he'd taken it hostage in the first place. It seemed safe to let Jim loose. And it had been, always. Perhaps the plumber was more capable of hurting that butterfly when compared to the childish subway worker.

Instead of bringing pain to the bronze plumber - if that was, at all, possible – Jim began polishing his beloved quarter - or whatever it was - as if it had the softest skin belonging to an infant. Why in the hell was it so important?

Meanwhile, Mark thought David looked like he was suffering from a silent migraine. Indeed, he was. If he'd said anything, Jim would have told the man to get some Midol. According to his attitude, David must have been on his male mental menstrual cycle. He could act like an asshole if he wanted to. Sometimes, he didn't even have to try or have a reason why.

Mark assumed the plumber wasn't the only one, and that he wished he were alone. David would have agreed. The train trip seemed to take forever.

Of course it had to, just because he was impatient. When that African American man was reminded of his anger again, or just simply remembered, David knew that time would only seem slower. Again, Jim turned towards him as he rolled the coin from his palm, placing it into his pockets before he returned brown eyes to others, dulled by boredom.

"So, did you take any of my other shit? Huh?"

David snorted, admitting with a growl, "You couldn't pay me to touch your shit."

Both Mark and Bob shuddered, but for differing reasons. The darker of the two looked disgusted at the idea when his mind drew a nice illustration for him to see. Bob wobbled like he was being rocked back and forth by the motion of a rolling ocean. David was sure to step a little further away from him, reluctantly ending up not eight inches to the right from his main annoyance.

Jim was glaring at him as David stood, arms still crossed against his chest, staring ahead stoically. He seemed like the standing dead.

"PSH!" Jim had been so loud that he caused himself to jump before shrugging his shoulders as he settled down. "You're a plumber, of course you would, you money hog!"

David raised a brow, loosening the twine of his arms to reach for the tools laying in the leather pouch at his side as he watched the man jump in fear. His expression worsened when David grinned wolfishly, wrapping his gloved grip around a wrench as if he was waiting for Jim to say something sarcastic to him. Everyone knew Jim would, eventually. Eight seconds later, the silence was snapped by Jim's high voice.

"Don't take your insane shit out on me, plumbah!"

David reminded him, "I keep my shit to myself, thanks, unlike _someone_." Shocking silver pinpointed the person he spoke of, no more than six inches away and angry still.

Jim came shy of cutting the distance between David and himself in half when he took a single step forward, scrawny arms shaking in strain, which made the plumber wonder...would he really try to hit him?

_Yeah, with his nauseous stench of breath in my face. Fuh._

"You got a problem with my shit, plumbah?"

Mark was grinning, sitting back as a spectator. Bob frowned like his lungs were either full liquid lead that was frothy, foamy, bubbling and boiling in his coiling generous gut. David's eyes were nearly the same shade of silver foil, watching when Jim's fingers began to curl together. They formed fists when David said, "No, Just your face. But for you, Jim, it's all the same."

Jim's movements were as swift as a snail - silent but not at all deadly - and just as slow to David who dodged easily and expertly. There was a metallic clang as knuckles knocked into the wall. Jim's arms warped more than the aluminum did against the impact. It seemed as though the attack had backfired, though it undoubtedly hurt him less than it would have if he'd laid a single finger on the predatory plumber.

The concussion of hand and hardness caused the young black mans skin below his short curly, yellow hair to turn blood red as the roar of pain trickled down his arms, stroking his spine, to end in his mind with a sharp throb as though the bones had been broken.

David wondered if the man had learned his lesson as Jim leaned back from him, holding his hand that burned bright red and hot. He held it close to his head and blew on it, stroking the spasming skin while wearing a deep grooved grimace. Both David and the older black man grinned when the plumber growled, "Now that I've thought about it, Jim..."

Jim snarled at him - or at least tried. It sounded much like a kitten whose milk had been stolen by an adult.

Ignoring him, the taller of the two, yet second of the four let the words pour from his arrogant lips with the movement of a miracle tongue. "Jim, you don't have anything. You don't have shit." David let himself laugh darkly. "You don't even have a woman? And guess who did?"

The plumber didn't have to say it aloud, because it was impossible to admit something that wasn't truthful to him. Instead, he just jerked a thumb for Jim to see, right up towards himself before it bumped his chest besides his glittering white gold, yellow, and copper pendant.

That hand was held out again, fingers spread while his palm was displayed before bronze digits wiggled towards David expectantly. Aloud, he explained the motion. "Maybe that coin belongs to me."

Jim gripped the coin against his chest when he growled, as though it was his bare heart. Then his fingers faltered when Mark worked him further, as though the young man was made of malleable metal. Aluminum, perhaps? Easily dented, the ebony mans defensive stance dropped when the Vietnam veteran chuckled.

"Give it up, boy, unless you never want to become a real man. This plumbah did you a favor. Unless you're gonna give him your ass – which no one wants," Mark nearly turned green at the thought, faltering before he shuddered. Simply he said, "Just hand it over, Jim."

Both eyes were big in excitement – but not in a good way. Like a guppy, Jim looked back and forth as his mouth gulped for speech and air, opening and shutting again and again without words. His sight seemed wet with tears.

Thin fingers trembled, causing the copper-skinned man with the darkest, thickest, richest and most dense dark hair that hung down his back feel himself frown…but not on the outside. Never there.

Jim was looking at him like he'd skinned, then cooked his favorite cat.

Still, how couldn't he? The thought of what to do continued to fill his mind, unwilling to be left behind in some dark corner. So, when Jim handed the coin to David in reluctant defeat, David made sure to rub it against his opaque undershirt again to polish it besides his pendant. He wore an arrogant grin with his lips lifted to expose straight and white teeth, wondering if he resembled a shark. He sure felt like one.

Jim was looking at him now like he'd burned his family alive. Jesus, the guy wasn't just pathetic. His expression also showed all. There was just something about Jim that told David that guys like him just weren't meant to grow up.

In fact, the subway worker looked closer to throwing up as David tilted an imaginary hat towards him, expression entirely egotistic – though only for display. His tone was also tyrannical as he smirked and said, "Thanks."

Jim looked ready to jump forward and make his own for the entire train that had begun to slow, as David's brown boots took the step, aiming to walk besides the black man. They were close enough that their shoulders could and would brushed together as the plumber walked past pompously.

But just before they did, David slapped one gloved hand hard against Jim's jacketed front, not bothering to do so much as glance at that face when he let his grip slip so that the silver slid down. Jim's instinctively cupping hands caught the coin with a face full of shock from either the enlightenment, or the threat of attack again.

David continued to walk towards the doors that had just started to slide open, forced to stop for families, friends, and businessmen with women to swim from the steel sardine can. He could hear the echo of the trains brakes when they'd gave their squeal, punctuating the end to the run-on sentence that felt like it had lasted a lifetime.

In fact, it had been just a little faster than that, with the amusement of Jim who snapped after him, "Hey!!"

Ignoring the sounds of the ocean, which he tried to swim through with waves created of limbs, clothes, and suitcases, David continued to walk from the train. Above the constant buzz of sound and the blur of motion, Jim was as good as gone…or would have been, if the man hadn't spent each year since he was eighteen surrounded in everything that made up the lifestyle of the subway systems.

David could hear the sprinting sneakers that scuffed the cement ground as his own chocolate colored soles stroked the steps. Instead of descending, David felt himself rise, not at all surprised when a happy dog chased him. That annoying animal had yellow-hair and yapped almost like a dog.

"What the fuh, man?!"

Well. There went his hearing.

Rolling his eyes, David shouldered past a man who was practically screaming into a cell phone.

_Can you hear me now? _David was tempted to say, but he'd been able to answer himself. _Apparently not._

Jim didn't seem to hear him, or to even want to when the plumber ordered him. "Jim, go back and do your job."

When Jim grabbed him, David growled. He was the wolf of the two, teeth bared. He was close to snapping them as he said, "Hands off, 'homie', I don't want your fucking coin."

As if he'd taken offense – David knew it was very possible – the shorter man raised a fist. Again. "What's wrong with my coin?!"

Simply put, the plumber said, "It's been in your pants. That's no mans…or womans land."

Again, David dared Jim to hit him. And again, he would dodge. But Jim didn't.

Jim glared at him when that silent silver stoic stare met his own milk chocolate eyes, as cold as ice. Then let go, throwing his hands up to snort at the plumber, "PSH. I don't want your hands in my pants anyway!"

David would not think about it. He would not. Nope. Instead, he focused on his own footsteps, forcing themselves forward from the crowds were fewer people dotted David's path. There was no pushing besides the mental images from his mind and that voice, laughing, that followed David when feet did not.

He didn't have to question who the voice belonged to when it called out, "You cocky bastard!"

It wasn't question, but the plumber answered anyway, simply when, with his walking pace, he was free. He had hit the top

"You bet."

So much like he always had in both present and past, David didn't turn around to see behind him. He didn't have a reason to, which was why, when he sky, he didn't stop.

TBC..


End file.
